Son of Wrath and Fire
by KittenofShadows
Summary: What will befall Rune? Is she lost forever? A new Argetlam. A sleeping maiden. A Rider's promise. All the action and romance of Daughter of Earth and Sky continues.
1. Living Corpse

**Author's Note: Hello everyone. I just wanted to mention that this is the sequel to Daughter of Earth and Sky, and it will not make much sense if you haven't read it. Hearts to all, KittenofShadows**

_She may live, but she awakes not. A living corpse._

Eragon's head was in his hands. He sat by Rune's bed, overcome by hopelessness. A week had passed. A week of trying and failing. A week of building hopes, only to have them crash down again.

Eragon let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, Rune. I don't know what more to do. I wish you were here."

She didn't respond at all. Of course she wouldn't. She had been still since that fateful day. She had been moved into her chambers, but since then no one had touched her. The dove and snake dagger, a gift from Captain Shay, was clasped to her breast.

Eragon traced her cheek with a finger. She was warm. Although her heart beat not, the fire of life burned in her still.

"I know you're there somewhere," he whispered. "Someday I'll awaken you. I swear."

He sat by her for some time, in silence. In a week, he had made no progress in restoring the young woman. It seemed as if each day she held his heart in her hands more. Arya was right—this was a great burden.

Eragon stood up, leaving the room. A great resolve filled him.

He headed to the training grounds, searching out Shay. In the days following Rune's _andlát slytha_, Shay had become increasingly protective of Eragon. Like a big sister. Eragon found that she didn't mind her company. Roran had made himself scarce now; he was spending time with Katrina.

Shay spotted him the instant he entered the training area. She ran up to him. "How goes it, Eragon?"

Eragon shook his head. "Nothing, as usual. Arya doesn't know what to do, and I can't seem to get any answers. Rune isn't going to be much help in this matter."

Shay nodded sadly. "If I could help, I would. But there is nothing I can do to ease your load in this problem."

"How is everyone faring?"

Shay shrugged. "Well enough. But Rune's loss has scarred everyone."

Eragon nodded. Shay hugged him encouragingly. "Everything will work out in the end, Eragon," she said. "Keep your hopes up."

"High hopes only lead to disappointment."

Shay laughed. "See? Your sense of humor is returning already." She smiled. "I have to go. Best wishes to you, and the little princess."

Eragon blinked dumbly for a moment, then nodded. She meant Rune.

The Rider still wasn't used to thinking of Rune as a princess. He had found out about her heritage a week ago, but still it surprised him. _A princess! Rune!_ The very thought amused him.

Later, in his room, Eragon leaned against Saphira. She nuzzled his chest with her muzzle.

_Oh, little one._

_I'm working as hard as I can to restore her,_ Eragon said. _But I don't seem to be getting anywhere._

_Perhaps Oromis will have some answers_, Saphira offered.

_Oromis?_

Saphira watched him carefully. _You mean you don't know?_

_Know what?_

She let out a laugh. _You have your head buried very deep, little Shadeslayer. If you had come out of Rune's room in the past week, you would have found out sooner._

Eragon frowned. _Found out about what?_

Saphira lost herself in a laughing fit. _Eragon, Súndavar got the last egg to hatch. We are not alone._

oooooooooooooooooooo

_Súndavar_…

Súndavar looked at the little dragon. It's green and black scales shimmered. It nudged him playfully, wiggling its tail.

"You need a name."

_Súndavar!_

"No. That's my name. It means Shadow."

_Shadow! Shadow, Súndavar?_

"No, you aren't Shadow. They would get us confused."

_Súndavar, Súndavar, Súndavar!_ The dragon pranced around the room happily.

"Rune would have named you Slate," Súndavar said.

_Rune? Rune?_ Tendrils of confusion snaked from it into Súndavar's mind.

Súndavar grinned. "Come. I'll take you to meet her."

_Her? Rune? Meet Rune?_

"Yes. Meet Rune."

Súndavar opened his door. He had remained inside his room for most of the time since the dragon had hatched. It had hunted, flying out of his window under the cover of night, but Súndavar had stayed indoors. Saphira knew about the dragon, along with Lady Nasuada, Arya, and Angela, but the Varden as a whole didn't know they had another Rider in their midst. Súndavar was surprised it had remained a secret for this long. Rumors usually spread like wildfire.

He led the dragon down the hall, checking first make sure there was no one there. It followed him like a clumsy, happy puppy. Súndavar opened Rune's door, shooing the dragon in and shutting the door behind him.

"That is Rune," he said.

The dragon sniffed at Rune's still body. _Rune? Rune lives? Rune dies?_

"Rune lives. She's sleeping."

_Sleeping? Rune? Sleeping dieing?  
_

Súndavar shook his head. "No. Just sleeping."

The dragon licked Rune's face experimentally. _Rune food?_

"No, she isn't food, you little beast," Súndavar said, giving the dragon a good-natured cuff on the head.

The dragon snapped his jaws in her face. _Not food,_ he said mournfully.

"Rune is a friend. She's good." Súndavar found himself automatically speaking in short, incomplete sentences, like the dragon.

_Shadow like Rune?_

"I do. And my name is Súndavar, not Shadow."

_Said Súndavar is Shadow_.

"I said Súndavar _means_ Shadow."

_Yes. Shadow, Shadow, Shadow._

Súndavar sighed. The dragon didn't seem to listen, no matter how hard he tried to make it. It was smart, he could tell, but it seemed to enjoy annoying him. Touching the gedwëy ignasia on his palm, Súndavar reflected on what he had become.

A _Rider_. The thought thrilled and scarred him at the same time. He was a Rider. Like Eragon. Like Murtagh. Like Galbatorix.

"We return to the matter of your name, dragon," he said.

_I Rune?_

"No, you aren't Rune. She is."

_Rune like Shadow?_

"I hope so. Stop changing the subject."

_Subject change? Ah. Name._

"Yes. What would you like your name to be?"

_Not Shadow?_

"No."

_Shadow pick?_

Súndavar thought. "Well, there's a whole list of names you could be." He listed off some. Each was met with rejection.

_Rune name?_ asked the dragon.

"No, you can't be Rune."

_No. Not Rune. Rune call me?_

Súndavar frowned. "Rune can't name you. She's asleep." It finally dawned on him what the dragon meant. "Is your name Slate?"

_Yes! Slate, Slate, Slate. Slate and Shadow_.

Súndavar nodded. "Slate then." He smiled.

Slate returned the smile with a toothy grin of his own. He began to spin in little circles, chasing his tail.

_Slate, Slate, Slate_.


	2. Nightmares of Reality

_Shay knew she was dreaming. But that knowledge didn't stop the gripping, icy terror that clawed at her heart with cold fingers. She tried to shut out everything, tried to stop the images coming to her brain, but she couldn't._

_She was covered in blood. It felt sticky and hot on her skin. A hand gripped her arm. She pulled away, recoiling in revulsion. She continued to run, trying to get away. She didn't know what she was running from, but it was horrible. Terrible._

_There was a comforting presence beside her, a blonde shadow that seemed to slip in and out of existence. Shay turned to it, trying to see what it was. She couldn't focus on it. The world was a blur around her. Her legs ached, but the ache was far away. It didn't matter. All that mattered was escaping._

_Something screamed. The shadow besides her ceased to exist. Despite her urge to run, Shay stopped._

_The blonde shadow had materialized. Scared green eyes stared back at Shay from a face exactly like her own. Pale hair, coated in blood and grime, light skin, long, tapered fingers. _

_Lily…_

_Shay reached out to her, but something pushed her away. Run! Run!_

_Lily struggled against an invisible enemy. She couldn't escape. She screamed again, a chilling, wordless shriek._

_Shay tried to lunge towards her, but she was forced back by an unseen force. She reached out again, trying to grasp for Lily's outstretched hand._

_Suddenly, Lily vanished. Shay was alone. Pain enveloped her world. The world turned red, then black._

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Shay sat up in bed. Her heart was pounding, her breath came in ragged gasps. She was coated in sweat, her hair plastered to her neck.

She fell back in bed, sighing. It was the same dream every night. The same blonde shadow, the same scared eyes, the same chilling scream. And, like every night, it left her feeling empty and hopeless.

_Lily…_

Shay got out of bed, beginning to pace the room. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a red glow on everything from Shay's open window. Shay shivered, it reminded her of blood.

Sighing, Shay placed her head in her hands. She couldn't keep this up… Her performance on the training field was suffering, she was becoming increasingly paranoid, and it seemed as though she was always tired.

_Ugh,_ she thought, disgusted with herself. _I'm falling apart!_

Shay leaned her head against the wall. "Oh, Lily," she whispered. "I miss you so much."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Murtagh looked down at the girl on the floor. She slumped loosely against the bonds that held her. Her hair – once the color of gold – now hung limply, caked with dirt and blood. Her tunic was tatters.

"Get up," he told her softly.

She looked at him slowly, her striking green eyes hopeless and glassy.

"Galbatorix wants you," Murtagh prodded. He tried to help her to her feet, but she drew away.

"Don't be scared, I won't harm you," he murmured softly to her. He touched her arm tentatively. "Come on."

She shook her head. "Galbatorix…" her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Shhh, now," Murtagh crooned. "Come on. There's a maid upstairs who will give you a bath and new clothes. Galbatorix wants to talk to you."

The girl shook her head, trying to pull away. She was too weak, and managed only to slump against Murtagh.

Murtagh picked her up. She offered no resistance. Carrying her up the stairs, he sighed.

_This was going to be a long day_…

**Author's Note: This chapter was short and incredibly stupid. Sorry, but I had this terrible writer's block, on top of a migraine. Hopefully the next one will be better. Hearts to all, KittenofShadows**


	3. Weakness of Mind

Súndavar grinned, letting out a whoop of sheer joy and pleasure. The wind slapped his face, blowing his hair this was and that. The sky was an endless plain of blue. There was not a cloud in sight. _We're flying!_

In response, Slate went into a dive, plummeting straight down, towards the earth. Súndavar let out a scream of mixed fear and exhilaration. It was snatched away by the wind.

At the last possible moment, Slate flipped over. Súndavar's head grazed the grass below. He came back up with a wildflower in his mouth, his hair tousled. Slate gave a rumbling laugh, pumping his wings to carry them upwards again.

Súndavar spit out the flower, laughing along with his dragon. Despite himself, the flower reminded him of Rune. Sadness tainted his rushing heart.

Slate sensed the change. He turned around, flying back home. They flew in silence, no more jokes, no more dives or freefalls.

_I'm sorry,_ the dragon said finally.

Súndavar shook his head. _It's not your fault. I just miss her._

Slate continued to beat his wings, knowing that there was nothing he could say.

Súndavar reflected on how far they had come together. They had been moved to new chambers, built like Eragon's and fit for a dragon. Today was their first flight together. Súndavar sighed. In a month, both he and Slate had changed. Slate had grown from the cute and playful puppy that had asked if Rune was food, into a mighty—if distractible, and a bit cocky—dragon. Súndavar knew that he, too, was different.

Slate landed in the training grounds, giving a mighty roar. Súndavar grinned. That was Slate. You couldn't trust him to make a 'quiet' approach for nothing. Súndavar swung himself off Slate's neck, patting the dragon lovingly.

The instant he landed on the ground, Súndavar found himself in a small crowd of Varden girls. _Great_. He would have liked the attention, if not for the promise he had made Rune. He would never take another. He didn't regret that promise, but sometimes it got in the way.

The instant he had that thought, Súndavar felt guilty, dirty, as if he was doing something behind Rune's back. He sighed. If Rune was awake, things would be much different.

One of the girls was giggling something. "You're so _strong_. Just like Argetlam."

Súndavar raised an eyebrow. The Varden had taken to calling Eragon _Argetlam_, while Súndavar was _Shur'tugal_. He shrugged. He didn't mind the nicknames, but he wished they could have just called him by his _real name_.

They stared at Slate with wonder.

"I wish _I_ had a dragon."

Slate, happy for the attention, straightened his neck dashingly, striking heroic poses. He winked at them.

They broke out into giggles. Except one, who stared straight ahead with milky eyes. She blinked slowly. "What happened?"

"Slate was showing you how charming he can look," Súndavar answered, kicking the dragon lightly.

Slate blew hot air at him. The blind girl's hair was blown back, over her shoulder. She looked puzzled. "What does Slate look like?" she asked.

Slate brought his nose up under her hand. She touched him hesitantly, drawing away.

_It is okay, little girl_, Slate said so everyone could hear. He nudged her again.

She made a fist, biting her lip, then opened it. She bravely placed her hand on Slate's muzzle. She worked her hands over his snout, then up his head. After a few moments, she pulled away. "I can see him now. And you, Shur'tugal?"

Súndavar blinked stupidly. "I…uh…me?"

She nodded. "What do you look like?"

One of the other girls took over. "He's about an inch taller than I, Lexia. A scar starts on his collarbone, and disappears behind his tunic. His face is soft, but determined. Hair the color of shadows hangs to his chin, framing it perfectly in windblown whisps."

Súndavar hated begin described. It made him feel like an animal in a cage. Or a vase on the table. Or a rug on the floor.

He took her hand. "Here. Just, see for yourself."

She smiled, touching his face. She worked her way over his skin gently, fingering his hair for a moment, then moving her fingers over his lips. Her hands were soft. Like Rune's.

Súndavar jerked away. _No, no, no!_

"Have I hurt you?"

He shook his head, then realized she couldn't see him. "No."

Slate watched him with one yellow eye. _Oh, Shadow…_

Súndavar shook his head angrily. "I have to go." He pushed past the girls. Slate gave them a theatrical bow, before following his Rider.

Súndavar found Captain Shay on the outskirts of the training field. She looked dead tired, with bags under her eyes and drooping eyelids. She leaned limply against the fence.

"_Please_, have something for me to do," Súndavar begged her. "Don't I have sword practice or something?"

Shay blinked at him. "Huh?" she asked tiredly. She squinted. "Oh. Um…huh?"

Súndavar quickly explained his predicament. "There's these girls, right? And they won't leave me alone. So I said I had to go. Which would be a lie, unless you give me something to do."

Shay sighed, raising an eyebrow. "So you finally met your fan club?"

Súndavar was nearly on one knee. "Shay, _please_!"

Shay finally nodded. "Come on. I'm sure a spar will do us both good."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Lily felt the pain in her head first. It spread to her body, immobilizing her. She collapsed to the ground.

_No…_

Galbatorix forced himself deeper into her mind. His consciousness twisted with hers. Whereas only moments before, Lily had felt clean, refreshed, she now felt defiled.

_Get out of my head!_

She could feel Galbatorix's pleasure at her helplessness. Before she had been locked up, Lily would have been able to resist him. Now she was weak. Galbatorix focused on her weakness, drawing her out.

_What is your true name?_ he asked. His voice in her mind was hard, demanding.

_No…_Lily protested. _It's—No. No. Be a wall. A placid lake. Not Lily. I'm not Lily._

Galbatorix sent another shock of pain through her with his mind. She gasped for breath, but nothing came. She couldn't ward herself against him for much longer. _Lake. Clear, flowing water. Singing birds._

Lily clenched her fists, trying to force him out of her mind. It was no use. She couldn't keep this up.

_Shay…oh, Shay…help me!_

But Shay couldn't help her this time. Lily felt her will to resist fading away.

_I'm so sorry, Shay_,she whispered with her mind. _I've failed. Just like before_.

_Before…Before…Before…_

That was the last conscious thing that crossed Lily's mind before she lost total control.

_I failed._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Shay's legs crashed underneath her. Pain shot through her body. She fell to the ground. Súndavar knelt beside her, calling her name, but his voice was far away. It didn't matter.

_Make it stop!_ Her mind screamed. _Make it stop!_

The white hot pain didn't reduce. It intensified, making her writhe like a snake. All thought was beyond her. She couldn't feel or think about anything beyond the pain.

_Shay…_

The voice was eerie, far away. It echoed in Shay's head like a memory.

_Failed…failed…failed…help…before…before…before…_the voice was no more than a whisper.

Shay screamed. She didn't know what she said. . Nothing was clear, everything was a big long blur of hate and anguish and pain. She screamed and pulled and tried to free herself from the embrace of hurt that held her. But it was hopeless. Try as she may, nothing would make it go away.

Shay saw red, crowding out her vision. She cried out again.

Things began to go black.

Almost as soon as the pain was there, it was gone. Shay's vision cleared. Her heart was racing. She couldn't breathe. She tried to lever herself up, but it felt as if a thousand pounds of stone weighed her to the ground.

"Help her up!" someone ordered. Shay didn't know who it was, but almost instantly she felt gentle hands help her to her feet.

She was coated in sweat. She gasped for air, opening her eyes. Súndavar was staring at her with concern and confusion.

"_What was that?_" he whispered.

Shay shook her head. "I don't know."

It was a lie.

Shay knew what it was.

Because in those last moments, a single word had been etched into her mind by invisible fingers.

_Lily._

**Author's Note: Okay, I think this chapter is an improvement on the last one. My migraine is gone (thanx soooo much for your concern, O faithful readers) and my writer's block has vanished. As you can probably tell, Shay and the mysterious Lily are most likely going to be a bigger part of this story than the last. Hearts to Lily Shay for creating them both. (Although, over time I've began to think of them as MINE grins and starts to whistle innocently) Hearts to all, KittenofShadows.**


	4. Bittersweet Relief

Súndavar sat, his head in his hands. _I didn't ask for this_.

With every beat of his heart, it felt as if he died a little more. As if he was giving up himself, everything he stood for. Súndavar knew it was all a lie. He would never be _Shur'tugal_, strong and capable and devoted like Eragon. He wasn't like that.

Súndavar felt self pity wash over him. They didn't understand. Did they think he _wanted_ this? Did they think that this is how he would have _chosen_ to live his life?

No, Súndavar knew that no one could understand. Not Eragon, not Arya or Captain Shay or Angela. No one could see through his disguise, the shell he wore by day to keep himself from losing it completely.

Súndavar slipped the dagger out from under his pillow. It was a simple weapon, with no embellishments or frills, but it was well crafted. It had ended the life of a man he hated, and for that he owed it.

Rune didn't know he had it. It had been hers, before she had made herself a murderer—just to save him, a boy she hadn't even known at the time. She hadn't seen him slip the dagger from the dead man's gut, hadn't seen him kick the fallen body in a bitter goodbye. If she had, would she have cared for him?

What about Lexia? If she had been there, would she have thought him less than human? Súndavar remembered the way her fingers had felt so smooth and cool against his face. He wished he could have drawn her in, let her melt into his arms. He could be her eyes, and she could fill his heart.

Súndavar shook the thoughts from his head. _You made a promise_, he reminded himself. He loved Rune.

But Rune wasn't here. Rune was dead, or something close to it. Eragon hadn't managed to awaken her, and with each passing day Súndavar longed for her more. _If only he could just end it…_

Those thoughts made Súndavar feel sick. He looked at the dagger, at its deadly sharp blade, and imagined the bittersweet relief it could bring. He grabbed it, positioning it above his wrist experimentally.

Súndavar stared at it. Could he do it? Could he give up the chance of seeing Rune again? Could he give up Slate? Lexia? Shay?

Súndavar slid the dagger back under the pillow. His stomach twisted when he thought of what he had been about to do.

_Rune…_his heart cried. Rune would have made the feelings go away. She would have touched his chest in that gentle way of hers, moving a single finger up and down his scar.

He imagined how her body would feel, tucked up next to his, warm and soft. Her hair would smell like fresh rain, her skin feel like silk. She had a princess's skin, unscarred and smooth.

Súndavar shook his head. No matter how much he wanted to, Súndavar knew he couldn't end it here and now. Because an oblivious eternity without Rune was unthinkable. Worse than death itself, was what death would bring.

That wasn't the only reason, and Súndavar knew it. He hated himself for it, but he knew it all the same.

He was scared.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lady Nasuada paced back and forth restlessly. There was so much to do…she ran through a list in her mind. Orrin was still grumping about _Rune_ being the princess he was to marry. A month later, and he still hadn't let go. It was cute, in an annoying way.

Nasuada stopped pacing abruptly. _What?_ she asked herself. Had she just thought something King Orrin did was _cute_?

She had to admit, she was growing rather fond of the young king. But _cute_ was not a word to describe him. He had been treating her more as an equal each day, instead of a child to be pushed around.

Handsome? Yes. Kind? Yes. But _cute?_

Nasuada rubbed her temple. She had to get more sleep…fatigue was making her think strange things.

King Orrin entered the room without knocking, smiling at her. Nasuada felt his eyes on her for just a bit longer than they had to be.

"I still don't have a solution to this problem," Orrin griped. "I promised the people a queen. They still want one. But Rune is asleep, and I'm not sure I'd like to marry the girl even if she wasn't…"

Nasuada laughed. "The people can live without a queen for a while. Perhaps you should find yourself a hobby less dangerous than laboratory work. A _safe _hobby would do you good."

"And you as well, Nasuada," Orrin answered. He focused on her face for a moment. "You seem very preoccupied. Have I bored you? Or is your mind simply on other matters?"

"Hmm?" she asked, blinking. "Oh, I'm sorry Orrin. It's just…there's a lot going on. Súndavar is a Rider now, and as much as I'd like to keep him here, there's his training that has to be attended to. That means sending him to Ellesméra."

Orrin read something in her eyes. "You don't seem to trust him."

"I don't," Nasuada admitted. "Since Rune's…since the occurrences in the tunnel, anyway, he's been changing. One of his parents is a Shade, which makes him increasingly unstable. I'm not sure if I can send him to Ellesméra and trust him to return."

King Orrin looked thoughtful. "Where else would he go? I know you're thinking Galbatorix, but why would he turn to him? The very man who caused Rune's sleep and tried to take everything from her? The boy maybe unstable, but he's not stupid."

Nasuada sighed and sat down. "You're right. I'm just paranoid."

King Orrin smiled at her. "I have an idea. Why don't we saddle up a pair of horses and take a ride in the fields? It'll be a welcome distraction for us both."

Nasuada nodded. "Alright," she said with a faint grin. "That sounds wonderful."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Shay had herself propped up against a pillow, fuming silently inside her mind. _How dare they treat her like an invalid? It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with her!_ She should have been out on the training fields or guarding the king, not sitting in bed like a stupid little girl with the flu!

She untangled the blankets from her legs, feeling annoyed and grumpy.

"How much longer do I have to stay?" she asked, hating herself for whining but unable to help it. This was grinding incessantly on her nerves. It wouldn't have been so bad if people hadn't started shown up, all smiles and sympathy. She hated people seeing her like this.

"Fifteen minutes less than the last time you asked," Angela replied. Which basically meant _I don't know. Stop asking_.

Shay sighed, laying back. "Why am I here anyways? We both know my attack had nothing to do with my health."

Angela nodded. "Yes."

"Then why can't I leave?"

Angela didn't answer. Shay was getting fed up. She was sick of this place, sick of being bored, sick of Angela and her stupid evading the questions. She stood up. Her legs felt shaky from misuse.

Ignoring Angela's protests, Shay left the herbalist's chambers, heading down the hall to find her own. She needed to get out of this pathetic nightdress.

She reached her chambers and slipped inside. She began to throw on a tunic, not caring which one it was or that it was just slightly dirty and smelled damp. Anything was better than that stupid cotton number she's been in for what seemed like a year.

As she dressed, Shay thought about what had happened to her. The source of the pain was Lily, she was sure of that. But the consciousness that spoke to her…that might have been Lily, and at the same time, maybe it wasn't. Shay couldn't tell.

If it was Lily, than something had definitely changed about her.

Shay sighed, leaning against the wall. Could Lily have changed so much that her mind – once as familiar as Shay's own – felt foreign and unrecognizable? Had it really been two years? Two years since the comforting blonde shadow had disapeared? Two years since she had been alone?

Hitting her head against the wall, Shay let out a stream of curses. She had changed too. Lily probably wouldn't even recognize her now.

Shay felt dejection swallow her heart. There was nothing she could do to fix things between her and Lily. There were no magic words to bring her back. It made her feel helpless and angry.

Shay hated the helpless feeling most of all. Anger could give you strength. Helplessness only made you weak.

And if there was one thing Shay hated, it was being weak.


	5. Strange and New

**Author's Note: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Kyasarin-Maarukeehii1 for calling me 'Kittie' in her review. I feel loved! Hearts to you, Kittie**

"I'm going," Shay told Orrin, who was watching her with eagle eyes. "You know I'm the best man for the job."

"Woman," Orrin corrected. "You may hold a man's post, but you are still a woman, and that means I can't put you in harm's way. The journey to Ellesméra is long and grueling, even for someone like you."

"You had no problem 'putting me in harm's way' when I fought beside Eragon and the Urgals," Shay pointed out.

"Because it is your job. We had no choice then. Sending you along with Eragon and Súndavar isn't necessary, and a waste of a valuable officer. Besides, your…"

"My what?" Shay snapped. "My _condition_?"

"We can't know if you'll have another attack."

Shay shook her head forcefully. "There's nothing wrong with me," she pushed. "It wasn't a physical attack. It was a mental one."

Orrin frowned. "Shay, who would have a reason to attack your mind like that? Or the strength? _You were writhing on the ground_. Not just anyone could do that to you. _You _of all people."

"They weren't attacking _me_," Shay stated simply. Her eyes shone with the answer.

Orrin's mouth dropped open. "You aren't serious? Shay, that's crazy. Stupid."

"Lily," Shay said.

"Lily is _dead_," Orrin said, turning away from her and beginning to pace.

Shay shook her head. "We don't know that for sure."

"She's dead, Shay. She's been dead for two years. I'd thought you'd accepted that."

Shay folded her arms over her chest. "Don't you get it?" she asked. "The attack couldn't have come from anywhere else."

Orrin stopped pacing. "Shay, this is insane. Lily is gone. Besides, why would Lily attack you?"

"Someone attacked _her,_" Shay explained slowly. "The attack traveled from her mind to mine. Through our connection."

Orrin shook his head again. "Shay, you're not going. And as much as I wish it wasn't true, Lily is dead. You're going to have to live with it."

"You don't understand," Shay said, feeling her voice raise to a yell. "For two years I've been barely getting by. _For two years,_ my heart has been being picked apart, piece by piece. I'm going to Ellesméra in two days, with or without your approval."

Orrin narrowed his eyes. "You know that if you disobey my direct order, your position under me will be lost, Captain."

Shay said nothing. Stifling a shriek of annoyance, she strode purposefully out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Only when Shay had reached her room did she finally let herself scream.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Slate spun in little circles, excited. _Two days, Shadow_, he said, grinning. _Just two more days until we leave._

_Yes,_ Súndavar agreed woefully. _Two more days until we leave Rune behind._

_We'll be coming back_, Slate told him, stopping his spinning and cocking his head in a puppy-dog way. _It isn't as if she's going to miss us._

_You don't get it_, Súndavar groaned._ Eragon's going too. He won't be able to awaken her until we get back. Then it might be too late._

_What makes you say that?_ Slate asked, beginning to chase his tail again, unconcerned.

_Will you stop that?_ Súndavar snapped irritably. _You're much too old to chase your tail like a dog._

Slate continued spinning, noncommittal.

Súndavar sighed, rolling his eyes. Sometimes he wasn't sure if Slate was _ever_ going to grow up. The dragon talked in full sentences now, but he still clung to the annoying nickname of 'Shadow' and the complete unconcern about anything besides himself and food.

_If you're so worried about Rune,_ Slate said, _Maybe you should bring her with._

_Bring her with?_ Súndavar asked skeptically. _That's stupid._

_Why?_ Slate asked. _It would solve your problem, wouldn't it?_

_I…suppose it would. But it's still a stupid idea._

Slate gave a dragon shrug, moving his wings up and down without interest. _It's all the same to me,_ he said, still spinning. _But I don't want you to try that stunt with the dagger again._

_Is that **concern?**_Súndavar asked mockingly. _Do I detect **concern** in you, O self obsessed dragon?_

Slate stopped turning in dizzy circles and blew a jet of hot air Súndavar's way. _I can care when I want to._

Súndavar sighed, taking the dagger out from under his pillow again. He ran his fingers along its sharp edge, drawing blood and wincing. _I know. I love you too._

_Don't take it too far, Shadow_, Slate said good-naturedly, a laugh in his 'voice'.

Súndavar chuckled, tossing the dagger into the air, catching it with a flourish, and tucking it into his belt. _Maybe I'll talk to Eragon about bring Rune,_ he said. _It's a stupid idea, of course, but…_

Slate snorted. _You just don't want to admit I thought of something you didn't, _he accused.

Súndavar laughed. _True enough, dragon. True enough._

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Shay shrugged. "I don't see what good it will do, but if you want…"

Súndavar and Eragon both nodded.

"Thank you, Captain," Súndavar said with a grin. Rune was coming!

Shay held up a hand. "Don't call me Captain anymore. I've been released from service to Orrin." Although she tried to hide it, sadness was clear in her eyes. You could always tell what Shay was feeling through those open blue orbs.

"You mean you got fired?"

Shay pursed her lips. "However you want to put it. It's fine though—I-I-I I don't care." Her voice was tight.

Eragon placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling understandingly. "I'm glad you're coming with us."

Shay nodded, biting her lip to ward off tears. She turned away from Eragon's gaze. "I…I better go get ready."

Súndavar tuned the conversation out. Inside he was jumping. Rune was coming with! Perhaps in Ellesméra, where magic was stronger than anywhere else, Eragon would find a way to wake her up. Then everything would be better again. Once again he could sleep with his legs entangled with hers, her face nuzzled in his chest. Once again he could feel her eyes on his skin, feel the shadow of her hair flick over his fingers.

Smiling, Súndavar closed his eyes, imagining how she would look. Would she open her eyes slowly, her eyelashes fluttering like a butterfly's gentle wings? Or would they snap open with her usual vigor, ready to start a new day? He smiled gently, thinking of how she would feel, pressed against him in that reuniting hug he would envelope her in the moment she awoke.

"Súndavar?"

Súndavar turned. It was Lexia.

Oh.

Her milky eyes stared off into the distance, her long, pale hair was laced with tiny braids. Rune used to braid her hair like that.

"Hello, Lexi."

She smiled. "So you're leaving soon."

"Yes. I'm going to miss everyone. But I'll be back soon." He took a hesitant step forward, feeling awkward. He had never felt this way with Rune. He always knew what Rune was thinking. But Lexia's face was a closed door.

The blind girl smiled softly. "I'll miss you too."

Súndavar felt a sweat break on his forehead. Why did her sightless gaze make him feel like this? Why did his heart beat faster around her? He didn't want it to. _Rune…_

They were silent for a moment. She ran her fingers through her hair. "I have something for you," she whispered. She handed him a tiny package.

Súndavar untied the string that held it closed. Wrapped in a scrap of fabric, was a silver band. The strands of silver interlocked and twisted.

"I made it," she told him. "Do you like it?"

"I love it," Súndavar answered, slipping it onto his finger. "Thank you. I'll…I'll bring you back something from Ellesméra."

Lexia smiled. "You don't have to."

"I want to. You should always return a good deed." Pausing for a second, Súndavar gathered his courage. He wrapped his arms around her gently.

She returned the hug, squeezing him tightly around the waist. Súndavar brought her into his arms, feeling the gentle press of her body and sighing.

Suddenly, the young Rider jerked away. _Rune…_

"Are you alright?"

Nodding, Súndavar swallowed. "I'm fine. I just…I have to go."

Lexia nodded. "I probably won't see you again before you leave. Goodbye and good luck."

Súndavar smiled. "Yes. You too."

He turned away, starting down the hall, towards his bedroom. He had to stop himself from running away.

Why did he feel like this?

_Why?_

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

That night, Súndavar dreamed. He dreamed of a girl. Who it was, he couldn't tell. Rune? Lexia? They had blended into one in his mind. Her lips were soft, her skin bare and her touch gentle. She moved as one with his body, slipping in and out and around. Writhing, sliding, liquid. Sweaty and wonderful and strange.

Whatever it was they did, it was joyous and forbidden and new.

_Rune…_

_Lexia…_

It didn't matter anymore. The feel of her was perfect. Whoever she was, it felt right.

**Author's Note: From here on out, the K+ rating on this story is pending. It may change, specifically when Rune awakes. Also, some of you want Súndavar to be with Lexia and forget Rune, others want the opposite. You can vote if you want in a review, telling me who you prefer and why, but know that just because one girl gets more votes doesn't mean I'll choose her. (Grins and starts planning an evil, heartbreaking fate for poor Súndavar.) Hearts to all, Kittie**


	6. Sightless

Lexia sensed an attack to her left, kicking out against it and spinning to parry another blow to her head. Flipping out of the way, she heard two blades clash through the place she had been seconds before. Her neck tingled, and she dropped to the ground, moments before a blade slashed where her head had been.

Tripping someone, Lexia lashed out against a person at her left with a gauntleted fist. Spinning on her heels, she braced herself for another attack. None came.

"Point, Alexia!"

Lexia stood there for a moment, breathing hard. She felt Jo'Hanna's hand on her shoulder.

"You won, Lexia!" Jo said. Lexia could hear the smile in her voice. "You beat them!"

A hand touched hers. Lexia clasped it. It was Tristan's hand. She could tell from the size and shape, and the scar on his palm. She smiled. "You fought well, Tristan."

"Not as well as you," answered the older boy. "I've never seen you fight like that."

"It was hardly a fair fight, either," said another voice. Tough and husky, but young. Royce. "You were bladeless, and the minority. Bravo."

"Thank you, Royce. I enjoyed it very much. Although you should watch your left side better."

Tristan clapped her on the back, laughing. "Sightless and still you manage to best two men twice your size, both with swords. You're an angel, Lexi."

"Hardly. I've just learned not to trust my eyes alone. Besides," she continued, "you and Royce couldn't be called _men,_ so it's not much of an accomplishment at all." Her voice was light and joking.

Royce scooped her up, throwing her on his shoulders, laughing. She gave a little squeak of surprise. "Come on. This calls for a celebration. Food's on me."

Pounding her fist on his shoulders, Lexia giggled. "Let me down!"

Royce flipped her back onto the ground. "Where's Elemo, anyways? Shouldn't she be here too?"

Lexia shrugged. "I don't very well know. What's it to you?"

She could almost see the cocky smile on Royce's face. "I spent the night with her last night. So I _am_ a man, despite what you might say, little Lexi."

Lexia's face lit up. "Congratulations. Are you getting married?"

"I'm content sharing chambers for now," Royce answered. "But she's a girl, so who knows? She'll probably want marriage and kids and all."

Lexia smiled at him. "Have any of you seen Shur'tugal? He was supposed to leave today, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," Jo replied. "He, Argetlam, that elf lady and Captain Shay all left this morning."

"She isn't a captain anymore," Tristan corrected. "I heard she was fired because she…"

Lexia stopped listening. She had tired of rumors long ago. There were far too many going around, and keeping track of them gave her a headache. At least she knew that Súndavar was gone now. She could focus on her training again.

For some reason, Lexia hadn't been able to train well when she knew the Dragon Rider was watching. Her hands got sweaty and the sword slipped, or she found herself tripping over bumps in the ground, even though she knew the training field better than her own room. The Rider's gaze felt hot on her neck, making it impossible to concentrate.

"Lex? Do you want me to walk you back to your room?"

Lexia shook her head. "I'll stay here for a while," she answered, slipping off her gauntlets. "I'll ask Garën to escort me back later."

"If you're sure," Jo'Hanna said hesitantly. "You're sure you don't want to go out to eat with us?"

"I'm sure."

"Oh, stop lecturing her, Jo," Tristan said. "She's a big girl."

Jo laughed. "Very well. We'll see you later Lexia."

Lexia nodded. She heard their footsteps as they turned to walk away.

She stood there for a while, hands on the fence that bordered the dirt sparring circle. She could feel the sun dancing on her skin, and a slight breeze tugging at her hair.

Behind her, a twig cracked. She spun around. "Hello?"

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you."

Lexia recognized the voice. Feminine but strong, with a flitting joke held in its midrange chords. "Shay?"

"Um…yes."

Lexia frowned. "Weren't you supposed to leave with Súndavar and Eragon?"

"…I fell behind. They left already?"

"Yes…"

Something wasn't quite right. Lexia felt the back of her neck tingle. She bit her lip. It sounded like Shay, but was it? Something was definitely wrong.

Before Lexia could be sure, Shay – or whoever it was – strode off, leaving the blind girl alone in the gathering darkness.

**Author's Note: Sorry for the short chapter. :D Wanted to mention:**

**It says in Eldest that Orrin is five years older than Nasuada. If she's nineteen or so, then he's about twenty-four. (I think Kya asked me about this)**

**Hearts to all, Kittie**


	7. Stop Those Arrows!

_**Eragon…**_

_The voice was ghostly, barely a whisper. It sent chills down Eragon's back. He knew that voice. Rune._

_**Eragon…**_

_His name was stretched, drawn out. A plee for freedom. Eragon felt his heart beat faster. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't move._

_In front of him, a pair of cold green eyes snapped open, the only illumination in the darkness of his mind. They stared at him, unblinking and hard._

_**Eragon.**_

_The single, flat word bounced and echoed through Eragon's mind. The voice – Rune's voice, but hateful and…dead – was emotionless._

_**Failure!**_

_Failure…failure…failure. It seemed as though the word was hissed from different directions, all around. A cold, evil kind of joy shone in the green eyes. Eragon tried to turn to face the source of the voices, but he couldn't. A cruel laugh rung out, again from all directions._

_Eragon opened his mouth to scream. Nothing came out. The last thing he saw was those eyes. Rune's eyes._

_Spiteful._

_Full of hate and vehemence._

_**Evil.**_

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon sat straight up, breathing heavily. He was coated in sweat.

He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light. The moon shone through some clouds, giving the world a supernatural glow.

"Your watch isn't for an hour, Eragon."

Eragon turned to the voice. Shay sat in the semi-darkness, fiddling with a dagger.

"You didn't have to get up yet. I would have woken you."

Eragon shook the perspiration from his hair. He wasn't ready to speak, his breath still hadn't returned.

Shay stood up, coming to sit next to him. "Bad dreams?"

He nodded. "Of _her_."

Shay looked at the ground. "I see. Do you want to talk about them?"

Eragon sighed. "She was taunting me. I couldn't move, couldn't scream. Her eyes were so _hateful._ She called me a failure."

"Eragon, you may be many things, but you aren't a failure."

"I know. It's just…coming from her, it scared me. I've never had dreams about her before."

Shay shrugged. "Her soul sleeps within you. Maybe she's…calling."

"With nightmares? That doesn't sound like her." He shivered, flicking his head towards the sleeping girl, who lay motionlessly a few feet away. "I haven't slept that close to her since we shared chambers. Maybe that's why."

Shay shrugged. "Eragon, may I ask you something…personal?"

"Go ahead."

"Do you love her?"

Eragon's breath caught in his throat. Did he? He wasn't sure. He felt something for her, but he wasn't sure if it was love or not… "I don't know," he admitted. "I've long since decided that Arya was the one Angela meant in her prophesy…"

"Prophesy?"

Eragon related what the bones had told him so long ago in Teirm. Shay listened quietly.

"But Rune is of noble birth as well," Shay reminded. "So it could very well be either of them."

Eragon nodded. "I'm not attracted to her like I'm attracted to Arya. But love is more than lust."

Shay nodded back. "That is true as well."

"Maybe I _do_ love her," Eragon said. "I find her beautiful, and she's kind and outgoing. She holds a place in my heart, I'm sure of that. But if it's love…I don't know. I have my place, and she has hers. Even if I did love her, it would hardly be appropriate."

Eragon turned away. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is that what I feel for her is deeper than love. It's a separate emotion altogether."

Shay bit her lip. "She's part of you now."

Eragon turned to face her. "Why do you ask, Shay?"

Shay shrugged. "I've never been in love. I hope to someday, but I've been too busy with my duties to Orrin. And…"

"What?"

"Lily."

Eragon didn't ask what she meant, or who Lily was. The depth of her sadness was conveyed to him by her voice and her eyes, and he knew better than to push her.

"I'll take watch now, Shay," he whispered. "You can go to bed."

Shay rolled over silently, curling up into a ball. Her shoulders began to shake softly.

Eragon ignored her tears, knowing it would only make things worse. Sometimes being a friend meant knowing when to pretend nothing was wrong.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Lily watched Shay and Eragon silently from the boughs of a tree. The little grove the group had stopped in gave her ample cover.

_I'm so sorry…_

Drawing an arrow, she notched it into her bow, hating herself more with every move she made. Trying to stop herself all the while, she took aim at the Rider's head. Her fingers twitched.

_Don't let go!_ her mind begged. But her body wouldn't listen. Her fingers loosened on the string, letting the arrow fly.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon heard the whistle of feathers. On an instinct he ducked, hitting the ground. An arrow hissed through the air where seconds ago his head had been.

Glancing wildly around for its source, Eragon shook Shay awake, then booted Súndavar in the side. "Wake up!" he hissed.

Arya was on her feet before Eragon could make a move to awaken her.

"We have to leave," Eragon hissed.

Súndavar glared at him from his place on the ground. "What's wrong with you, Eragon? It's late!"

"Someone shot at me," Eragon explained, already rolling their things into a bundle and packing them onto the saddles of their horses.

Shay plucked an arrow from the ground nearby. She stood up, then cried out. An arrow's shaft protruded from her shoulder. She bit her lip against the pain, staggering towards Bane, her warhorse.

Súndavar rolled over to get up. An arrow hit the ground where he had been laying.

"_Letta orya thorna!"_ Arya's voice echoed in the small glade.

Slate looked up from his place next to Saphira. _What sends pointed sticks at us?_

_Arrows, Slate,_ Saphira corrected the younger dragon, shaking herself awake. _They rip through your wings and scratch painfully at your scales._

_Like flying swords,_ Slate said solemnly. _Come, Shadow. Let us soar._

The dragons were speaking so everyone could hear. Súndavar turned to Slate.

"I have to help with Rune. Fly, dragon."

Saphira and Slate took to the air, beating their wings rapidly.

Shay's arm was bleeding hard. She looked paler than usual. She mounted Bane, shaking with the effort.

Súndavar took a step towards Eridor, then paused. At the outskirts of the glade, just beyond the border or trees, another horse was tethered. _Their attacker's horse._

Taking a deep breath, he ran to it. An arrow flew towards him, sinking itself into his leg muscle. Fire shot up his leg, but he didn't stop running. He reached the horse, throwing himself onto its back. The palomino reared, snapping the leather band that tied it to the tree.

Together, the group rode away, into the darkness.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Lily watched them leave. Her heart stopped beating so heavily. They had escaped. Good.

Better yet, they had left her without a horse. How would she follow them now? Lily was glad. It would take her a good, _long_ time to reach them now.

_Oh, Shay,_ she thought with a smile. _Thank you._

Lily remembered the blood on Shay's shoulder. She winced, as if the wound was her own.

_Sorry about that._

Lily's face broke into a grin. _Take that, Galbatorix!_ she thought joyously. _You can tell me what to do, but you can't control the future._

**Ancient Language:**

**Letta orya thorna: Stop those arrows!**


	8. The Good Kind of Insanity

**Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Deer-Shifter, because I accidentally used her words in the last chapter. I guess great minds think alike. I'm sooooo sorry. I hope this dedication makes it up to you! Hearts and _apologies_ to you, Kittie**

"Waíse hiell."

Eragon's fingers were soft on Shay's skin. The wound on her shoulder closed, leaving only dried blood as a marker for where it had been. The pain evaporated. She smiled at him thankfully, fingering the arrow.

Arya was nursing Súndavar's leg gently. So far, the boy hadn't even let her touch the arrow, much less remove it. His face was drawn tight with pain, but he made no move to complain.

"It has to come out, Súndavar," Shay called at him. "Just close your eyes and think of something else."

Súndavar shook his head, batting Arya's hand away again. "Don't touch it!" He scooted away from her, his leg hanging uselessly.

Lightning fast, Arya's arm shot out, gasping the arrow. Before Súndavar could respond, she jerked it. The arrowhead tore free, leaving a trail of flesh and blood. Súndavar gave a surprised yelp, grabbing protectively at his leg.

_Be you fine, Shadow?_

Súndavar didn't respond to the dragon, who was crouched near Saphira, watching with interest.

Arya murmured a few words in the Ancient Language, and the wound healed. Súndavar let out a relieved sigh.

"Thanks," he said, breathless.

"We should keep going," Eragon advised, looking at the sun, which was now directly above them.

Shay nodded. "I've no doubt that we left our mystery attacker behind, but now we know it's not safe to rest all night. We'll stop every four hours for one hour breaks."

Súndavar opened his mouth to complain, then thought better of it and closed it again. "Fine with me."

_Slate and I are going to hunt,_ Saphira informed them all. _We will meet you in four hours._

Eragon nodded at the dragons, who took to the sky.

Tired, but with renewed resolve, the group continued on.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Galbatorix threw the mirror against the wall, shattering it. The magical image on its surface disappeared, leaving only glittering shards, scattered across the floor.

Flipping a dagger from his belt, Galbatorix spun around and threw it. It sunk into the wall several inches.

Rage filled, the king collapsed into a soft chair. "She failed…that little…she…supposed to kill them…" Shaking with fury, he took a sip of the wine on his desk, then threw the glass against the wall.

Shruikan watched with cautious, calculating eyes. _She will follow them to Ellesméra._

"On foot!" Galbatorix cried, spinning to face the dragon. "She'll never make it on time. That girl made the _perfect_ assassin. No one would have hurt her."

_If Eragon awakens your daughter—_

"Do not call her that!" yelled Galbatorix. "She is a disgrace to my name! No better than a bar whore. I've disowned her."

_She is Lycona's child,_ Shruikan reminded softly.

With the mention of Lycona, Galbatorix's eyes softened. The rage disappeared from his face. "Yes. She is," he said sadly.

_Lycona would have wanted her to be happy._ Shruikan didn't feel bad manipulating Galbatorix. Since his talk with Rune, before he had unknowingly sent her to her downfall in the tunnel, his dislike of the old Rider had grown. He had begun to think about everything that they had accomplished. Was it all _for the good of the Empire_, as Galbatorix had said?

"She would have." He cracked his knuckles. "But I am not Lycona. Lycona is dead. Rune killed her."

Shruikan didn't respond. Rune hadn't killed Lycona. Galbatorix had. He had killed her heart the moment he forced her into bearing his child. From that fateful night onward her body began to waste away in sorrow. She got by, but she didn't _live_.

"Rune will die for what she has done," Galbatorix continued. "She has caused me too much sorrow."

Shruikan heaved a dragon sigh. He had begun to realize something that he hadn't noticed in centuries. Galbatorix had blinded him with visions of glory. Shruikan now realized the bitter truth, a truth he had denied to accept before. Galbatorix was insane. It was the only possible reason for his behavior.

It was a good kind of insanity, the kind that gave you strength to carry out the worst deeds other men wouldn't be able to stomach. It was the kind of insanity that took away your conscience, took away your humanity. But insane was insane, and nothing could change that.

Stretching out his wings, Shruikan continued to watch his Rider.


	9. Magic in the Air

**Author's Note: Hello everyone. I'm sorry I didn't update yesterday, but my friend Joe came over. (I based Jo'Hanna off of her :D) So I didn't get to work on my story. I'll try to update extra fast to make up for it. Hearts, Kittie!**

_Watch me, Saphira!_

Slate went into a dive, then looped around, soaring straight back into the sky. He felt the warm sun on his black scales. Flipping over to fly upside-down, he sunned the emerald scales that armored his neck and stomach.

Saphira circled him, beating her leather wings. _I am._

Slate flew within a few inches of her, nipping the female dragon on the nose playfully, before retreating with a flap of black and green. She roared at him good naturedly, chasing him through the sky. She may have been faster, but Slate was small and agile by comparison.

He raked his paws, claws sheathed, over her stomach. _Dead!_ he cried, _Dead, Dead, Dead!_

Saphira gave a dragon laugh. _Not if my Rider heals me with magic, little one._

Slate deflated a few feet, then soared around her again. He snapped lightly at her throat scales, then pretended to scratch at her wings.

Saphira grinned, blowing a jet of flame at him. It passed over his scales without harm. It felt good to have another dragon there. Glaedr was a dragon, it was true, but Slate was different. He wasn't her master. He could play and joke and tease. His voice felt comforting in her mind. The voice of a _dragon_. Like her.

Trying to blow flame back, Slate succeeded only in a tiny trickle of smoke. _No fire,_ he said sadly.

Saphira chuckled and blew another inferno at him. He avoided it expertly, then shot a puff of smoke her way. _Catch me_!

Slate began to dart away from her, then stopped, hovering in the air. _Trees,_ he stated simply. His voice was awe filled.

Saphira looked downwards. Below them was Du Weldenvarden.

_The Guarding Forest_.

Slate looked at her, then back at the woods below. Saphira could tell something had changed in the young dragon. The sight of Du Weldenvarden seemed to awaken something in him.

_Much life,_ he said reverently.

_Yes,_ Saphira agreed. _Much life indeed._

_Find Shadow,_ Slate said, before dropping out of the sky.

Saphira watched him leave. For the first time, she felt…something. Something new. Tenderness? That wasn't it. She wasn't sure…

Having Slate there with her made things more bearable. He was only a month and a half old, not old enough to mate or anything of that sort, but…he was family, in a way. They were both orphans. They both loved the feel of the wind, how it slapped their scales as if calling to play. They both felt the calling of fire, the wondrous inferno that burned within their chests…They both could understand the need for a friend.

Sighing with confusion at herself, Saphira began to spiral downwards after Slate.

ooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar stared up at the forest that rose above him, feeling small. The trees were so _tall_, so massively vast and big and _alive_. He wanted to scream and be silent and cry and laugh all at the same time. Beside him, Shay seemed affected in much the same way. She stood dumbstruck, unsure how to react to the natural splendor.

"What are we supposed to do?" she asked in a whisper, as if speaking aloud would violate such a place. "Walking right in doesn't seem right…"

"Walking right in would also get you hopelessly lost."

Súndavar turned to the direction of the voice, his hand flying to the sword at his side on instinct.

"Put that away, if you please."

Arya stepped forward, "_Kvetha_, Lifaen."

"Arya kvit-kona. Atra esterní ono thelduin."

"Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr," Arya replied traditionally.

"Un du evarínya ono varda."

Formalities taken care of, Eragon stepped forward. He clasped the elf in a tight hug. "It's good to see you again."

"You as well, Eragon."

Súndavar watched the exchange with a skeptical eye, unsure who this elf was. And what was it Arya had said? _Peace live in your heart_?

Suddenly Slate landed beside him. _Shadow, trees!_

Súndavar nodded, still silent. He bit his lip. _Yes, Slate. Trees._

Slate seemed put out by his noncommittal response. _Much life!_ he continued. _Much, much, much. Magic in the air._

Súndavar raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't get to respond. Lifaen placed a hand on his snout. _"Skulblaka, eka celöbra ono un malabra ono_."

Slate blinked dumbly. _What says the forest man?_

"He asks what you said," Súndavar repeated.

Lifaen laughed. "Dragon, I honor you."

_Tell forest man thank you._

Súndavar relayed the message.

"If introductions are well enough over, I'd suggest we get on our way," said a new voice.

"Vanir." Súndavar could hear a cautious, snakelike edge to Eragon's voice, one he had never heard before.

"Eragon Shadeslayer," Vanir responded in the same tone. "**_Kvetha_**." His voice snapped like a whip.

There was ill blood between the two men. That was for certain.

Vanir threw a glance at Rune, then looked at Arya for explanation.

"_Andlát slytha,_" Arya replied to his unspoken question.

"The girl sleeps," Vanir said, seemingly to no one. "Very well. Let us ride. We are to stop in Lillendale tonight."

"Lillendale?" Shay asked, blinking in confusion. "I've never heard of such a city."

"Nor had you heard of me before now, I suspect. But that does not mean I did not exist."

Shay didn't remark. She, in fact, _had_ heard of him. And she hadn't liked what she heard. All the same, he had a point.

"Mount your horses," Vanir admonished, swinging onto his own mount's back.

_I shall carry Rune,_ Saphira told them. Vanir opened his mouth to object, but Saphira's eyes told him it was hopeless. She wasn't asking.

Grasping the girl in her talons, the blue dragon took the sky. _I shall follow you from above._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rian swung her legs off the edge of the balcony, rocking slowly and humming a lively tune she had heard at the last fair. She squinted in the growing darkness, trying to see if the black splotches she saw were…no. No, just some animals. She sighed. Lookout duty was so boring.

Then, a horn sounded. She squinted again. There! There they were! Glancing upwards, she grinned, her heart beginning to beat faster. Jumping off the balcony, she hit the ground with a _thud_, already running.

There was a small group of elves gathered around the newcomers by the time she got there. Shouts of "Eragon Shadeslayer!" and "Shur'tual! Argetlam!" abounded, ringing in her ears.

The dining hall was crowded as the guests began their meal. The dragons feasted on pies of fruit and vegetables, gulping them down with ferocity.

"To Eragon and Súndavar!" called a man, raising his glass. "Our saviors!"

The music and rejoicing lasted deep into the night. Dancing and whirling, singing and chanting. Magic abounded. Someone even cast a spell to turn Slate's scales purple, an act he quickly realized was a mistake. The young dragon snapped and blew smoke until he was changed back.

"Are you having fun?" Vanir asked Shay, sitting down next to her. The former captain hadn't moved from her seat all night, hadn't joined in the festivities. "You know things will be much more serious when we get to Ellesméra. Lillendale is a place of rejoicing."

Shay nodded, not looking at him. "I'm fine. It just reminds me…"

"Of what?"

"An old friend. She would have loved to be here. And…"

"And?"

Shay blushed, something she rarely did. "I can't dance."

Vanir laughed, taking her hands. "Come. Let the music show you how."

Standing up silently, Shay nodded. She could take on an army, fence down and Urgal and rescue maidens in distress, but the feel of Vanir's hands on hers made her feel small and weak. And wonderful.

"Alright…" she agreed hesitantly.

The elf spun her, moving with the lively tune as only an elf could. Shay moved minimally, trying and failing to let go. She lost her balance. Vanir caught her, grabbing her hand to steady her before she toppled over.

"Just let go," he whispered. Shay couldn't hear his words above the music, but his meaning was clear.

It was dawn when the Riders and their company set out again. None had slept at all, but they felt renewed and refreshed. Súndavar smiled.

_I'm ready,_ he thought. _Ready at last._

**Author's Note: AHHHHH! I have written myself into a terrible mess of couples, haven't I? We've got possible Eragon/Rune, Murtagh/Rune, Súndavar/Rune, Súndavar/Lexia, Murtagh/Lily, Nasuada/Orrin, and now Vanir/Shay. Did I miss any? Oh, I forgot the typical Eragon/Arya. (Although I haven't touched much on that one) By now _I'm_ not even sure who's with whom. (Starts spinning in dizzy circles) Well, stay with me, I'm sure I'll eventually figure it out. **

**Hearts to you all for being so patient, Kittie**


	10. Sing of Lycona Faire

Shay rode in silence beside Vanir. Bane's muscles bunched and rolled beneath her, causing her to rock slightly with his gait. Her sword remained at her side, one hand rested on it. Neither Vanir nor she had ventured to speak since they had danced the night before. Shay wasn't sure what stopped her. Perhaps the fact that she had nothing to say.

"We'll reach Ellesméra by tomorrow night," Lifaen said from the front of the group. "We shall stop here for tonight."

Shay brought Bane to a halt. From the corner of her eye, she saw Súndavar dismount from Eridor. She smiled. The boy had insisted on bringing Rune's horse. His own mount, a persnickety mare called Finna, had been turned out to pasture.

_Saphira! Bring Slate and land. We stop for the night!_ Shay heard the words in her head. Eragon's words were directed at the dragoness, but he spoke to them all.

Seconds later, Saphira appeared between the trees, Rune's body still clutched in her claws. The girl hung limply. Saphira flapped her wings nervously, feeling closed in and awkward with so many trees. _I cannot land holding her._

Súndavar moved underneath the dragon, reaching up. Hesitantly, Saphira dropped the girl into his arms. She felt soft and light. Waiting until the boy moved out of the way, Saphira settled onto the ground.

In a moment, Slate landed beside her clumsily. _I land,_ he proclaimed to the group dramatically.

Lifaen grinned at the horse sized dragon, who looked so small beside Saphira. A smile even flitted across Vanir's lips, quickly to be replaced by a look of seriousness.

_Slate and I are going hunting,_ Saphira said. _We shall return before dawn._

The dragons took to the skies again.

Soon the group had settled down by the fire. Súndavar sat quietly by Rune's sleeping form, while Eragon chatted amiably with Lifaen. Arya was looking in Ellesméra's direction, as if straining long enough would bring it into view.

Shay sat silently, as Vanir paced back and forth. His dark hair fringed his face, his eyes were solemn and just a bit haunted.

"Sit down, Vanir," she murmured. "You're making me nervous."

Vanir ignored her, continuing to pace. He didn't meet her gaze, or make any motion to acknowledge that he had heard her. Shay felt as if she had been slapped. It was true that they had just met, but he didn't have to be rude. Vanir was their guide, and they guests. He should at least be civil.

Shay turned away, folding her arms over her chest. Men could be so annoying. Maybe she was right to never fall in love. She didn't need a man to weigh her down anyways, she tried to convince herself. She had enough on her plate.

Vanir ignored her discomfort. It seemed as though he had forgotten their exchange entirely.

The air was tense. The group had all seen them dancing, and there was nothing worse than being caught in a quarrel between lovers.

_Except we aren't lovers,_ Shay reminded herself. She had never been that close to anyone. Much less Vanir.

Shay felt like all eyes were on her. Vanir just kept pacing.

Lifaen broke the silence with a grin. He raised his voice, and began a lively tune, his face raised to the moon.

"_O!_

_Life spins by a single thread,_

_Glistening of gold,_

_Joyous call heard by us all,_

_The blood of young and old._

_A gentle touch, a simple glance,_

_From lad to fairest maid,_

_Yäwe bond, an oath so strong,_

_Of love that ne'er shall fade._

_O!_

_Beyond the beauty of mere form,_

_Though pleasant to the eyes,_

_A shining strand, a helpful hand_

'_Neath heart bound to the sky._

_I sing of Lycona faire,_

_A woman brave of heart,_

_Who gave herself for land and elf,_

_Forevermore apart._

_O! Forevermore apart…"_

The group clapped, all tension evaporated by the words.

"That was wonderful, Lifaen," Eragon complimented.

"I'm no minstrel," the elf replied humbly, "And I'm afraid the one Narí sung you the last time you were here was quite a bit better, but I thank you for your praise."

"Pretty," Súndavar grumbled, not looking up from Rune.

Eragon glanced up at Vanir, who had stopped moving to listen to the words. The elf scowled and began his pacing again. But the song had put the group in high spirits, and not even Vanir's grumpiness dampened the mood.

Eragon frowned. That name…_Lycona_. He had heard it before. If only he could remember where…He was about to ask Lifaen when it came to him.

Those last moments in the tunnel, before the frightening occurrence that cleared the blocking wall and doomed Rune to _adlát slytha_…Rune had called out something, before placing their hands on the wall and whispering the words that bound her to him. _Lycona_!

Something must have shown on Eragon's face. Lifaen cocked his head. "What troubles you, Argetlam?"

Eragon shook his head. "Nothing, Lifaen. I've heard the name Lycona before…"

Arya turned sharply, watching him with a careful eye. It was common knowledge that Rune was Galbatorix's daughter now, but the elf princess had not revealed the identity of her mother.

"I'm not surprised," Lifaen replied with a grin. "Lycona's story has become a legend among us."

"Indulge us," Eragon asked politely, "with such a tale?"

"Well, it was long ago…" Lifaen began.

Eragon sat back to enjoy the story. It captivated him. Words about a jealous, spiteful girl who wanted what she couldn't have. Words about her seducement of Evandar, and her vendetta with Islanzadí. It was a wonderful story. He felt as though the characters were speaking to him, as if their tale was his own. Islanzadí's forgiveness touched him, and he felt tears coming to his eyes.

"She disappeared nearly sixteen years ago," Lifaen finished. "And she hasn't been seen since."

"Where is she?"

"Some say she's alive in Galbatorix's castle. Others think he killed her upon sight. Still others believe she betrayed Islanzadí yet again and settled into a human city, but those are few."

"In short, we don't know," Arya said softly.

"A day long festival is held every year on the anniversary of her disappearance to honor her courage and loyalty," Lifaen continued. "It's a wonderful celebration."

"Perhaps we will be there for it," Eragon mused. _Perhaps I'll be able to awaken Rune for it…_

"Perhaps," Vanir snapped, stepping into the conversation for the first time. "It is due time we slept. Dawn waits for no man, woman, or elf. And we leave at dawn."

oooooooooooooooooooo

Shay rode at the back of the line the next morning, near Súndavar. Ahead, Vanir didn't seem to notice.

_Now I know how Eragon feels,_ she thought, thinking of his 'secret' – or not so much – passion for Arya. Shay shook the thought off. She didn't like Vanir _that_ much. He had seemed nice in Lillendale, but perhaps he was not nice at all. Shay couldn't think of a reason for him to fake at that sort of thing, but she was sure there was one all the same.

"You keep watching the back of his head, Shay."

Súndavar's voice surprised him. "What?"

"You keep staring at our guide," Súndavar repeated.

"No I don't!" Shay snapped. Súndavar was a kid. What did he know?

Súndavar shrugged. "You look like a bitch in heat when you look at him like that. It's kinda unlike you."

Shay wrinkled her nose. "You're imagining things. There is nothing between Vanir and me."

Again, the boy shrugged. His ambiguousness was getting on Shay's nerves. "Would you like there to be?"

Shay narrowed her eyes at him. "Even if I _did_, it wouldn't matter."

Súndavar didn't respond. He glanced upwards, searching the sky for Slate. "Where is that idiot dragon?" he muttered irritably.

Saphira and Slate had taken off at dawn, and hadn't been seen since. It wasn't surprising, as they had both endurance and speed, but it was beginning to annoy the younger Rider. How come Slate always spent time with _Saphira_ anyhow?

The day progressed slowly. There was no conversation.

_What's happening to us?_ Shay asked herself. Before they had come to Ellesméra, such a silence was unlike them. But now it seemed their days were full of it.

Sighing, Shay continued on. What else was there to do?


	11. Of Welcomes and Spite

"_Kvetha Fricäya_."

Islanzadi watched the group of six, her eyes glittering. A cloak of the softest, snow white fur adorned her shoulders, clasped at the throat with a red stone. Blagden rested on her arm.

"Greetings once again, Eragon Shadeslayer," the elf queen said, her voice managing to be both soft and powerful at the same time. "Greetings, Saphira Brightscales."

Eragon bowed. "_Atra esterní ono thelduin._"

"_Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr,_"

"_Un du evarínya ono varda_," Eragon finished. "We thank you for this welcome."

Islanzadí nodded, then turned to Súndavar. "And your name, Rider?"

"Súndavar Eddyrheart, your highness."

Islanzadí pursed her lips. "Your name is a blessing and a curse. It taints your identity, yet warns you of what you must avoid becoming. Well met, Súndavar. And you, dragon?"

_Slate_, replied the young dragon, for once all the joking and immaturity gone. _I have not a name after._

"He means—"

"I know what he means," Islanzadí interrupted, not kindly. "Well met, Slate."

Shay stepped forward, bowing deeply. "I am Shay Everwood, formerly Captain Shay of King Orrin's Elite."

"Again, well met. Daughter, you have not greeted me."

Arya blinked, then touched two fingers to her lips. "_Kvetha_."

Islanzadí smiled regally. "I am aware of the fact that it is late, and you must be tired. However, I ask that you dine with me and my court."

_Food!_ Slate yelped. He wiggled his tail in excitement.

Saphira flicked him in the head with her wingtip. _Behave yourself, Slate_.

Islanzadí laughed, a sound like trickling water. "Yes, dragon. Food indeed."

oooooooooooooooooooooo

They sat around the large table, which was set with all sorts of dishes of fruit and vegetables and bread. Slate and Saphira were both given a warm pie. Slate eyed his hungrily, yellow eyes wide.

_Food,_ he said longingly.

Islanzadí raised her glass. "I toast Saphira Brightscales and Slate. May your claws stay sharp and your scales always shine."

"May they," intoned the group sitting around the table.

Eragon picked up a fork, digging into the dish in front of him. Back with the Varden, there were very few dishes that weren't made from meat. He had been getting very tired of salad and bread.

Súndavar eyed the food hesitantly. "Um…"

Shay opened her mouth to explain that elves don't eat meat, then snapped it shut again. She still wasn't talking to Súndavar, after the Vanir comment he had made earlier. Might as well let him make a fool of himself.

Slate bit into his pie, swallowing. He paused. _Food tastes good. But different._

"It tastes different because it does not contain meat, Slate," Islandzadí explained. "Elves eat only fruitage of the ground. We do not wish to cause pain to the creatures who share this earth with us."

Súndavar frowned. "Excuse me, your highness. With all due respect, if this is true, how can you justify wearing fur?"

Islanzadí smiled at the question. "You are perceptive. Elves usually do not wear the skins of other animals. However, this fur was a gift to me by the she-wolf it came from."

Súndavar looked thoughtful, then nodded. "I see. Thank you for explaining that to me." he took a bite of the vegetable dish.

Islanzadí scanned the group. "We turn to the matter of the sleeping girl you have brought," she said.

Eragon cleared his throat. "Her name is Rune."

"Who is she bound to?" Islanzadi asked, taking a delicate bite.

"I," Eragon answered. "Her soul sleeps in my heart."

Súndavar mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'but her_ body_ in _my_ arms'. Both Islanzadí and Shay had enough foresight to make no comments.

The elf queen smiled. "There are chambers enough for her in Tialdarí Hall, if that is where you wish her to be. I look forward to meeting her, when and if she awakens."

"She will," Eragon said firmly.

_Rune wouldn't want to sleep in a castle, _Saphira told him through her pie. _She never wanted special treatment. Even rooming with us made her...more visible than she wanted._

Eragon nodded. _That is true._

"Both I and she within me thank you for the offer," Eragon said, "But…I think I'll take care of where she will be put myself."

Súndavar glared at him, flicking a piece of broccoli at Eragon with a fork. It hit Eragon in the head.

Shay restrained a laugh. Arya did not look amused.

"Control yourselves, both of you," she commanded. "Your petty squabbling over Rune-vira will get you no where."

"You address her as _vira_," Islanzadí commented. "I have not heard that title from your lips for a very long time, daughter."

"I have not had someone to give such a title to for a very long time either," Arya countered.

Blagden flapped his wings, taking to the air circling Slate's head in dizzy circles.

The dragon snapped at him, missing by inches. Blagden gave a cackling laugh. Súndavar snorted smoke at him.

Blagden laughed again, darting around the weak trickle of smoke.

"_Roots and boughs,_

_who can know_

_which is which_

_or how they grow?_"

Eragon laughed. "There he goes with another nonsense verse." But in his heart, something pulled. Maybe this verse wasn't as nonsense as he thought. However, he could decipher no meaning.

Súndavar frowned at the words, raising one eyebrow. "The bird speaks?"

"Only in riddles and verses," Eragon explained, being rewarded with a glare from Súndavar.

"I didn't ask you, _Argetlam_," the boy snapped.

"Calm yourselves," Arya said tightly.

Shay glanced Vanir's way. His eyes were laughing. He obviously favored Súndavar over Eragon, and seemed to enjoy the younger Rider having the last word. He caught her looking and frowned, turning away.

Shay rolled her eyes. Vanir was an idiot. She had come to accept that. And yet…

They finished the meal, Arya occasionally having to snap at both Eragon and Súndavar. Islanzadí ignored their fighting with a casual and understanding eye. Shay realized that it wasn't much different from her own story with Lycona and Evandar. No wonder the queen didn't become angry.

"Come, Shay," Islanzadí bid. "There are chambers for you in Tialdarí Hall. Arya, escort Súndavar and Eragon to their own chambers, if you would."

Arya nodded, striding briskly away, not glancing behind her to see if the Riders followed.

Slate gave a final puff of smoke at Blagden, before following the princess.

Shay's room was small and modest, but comfortable. She was asleep the moment her head hit her pillow.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon laid Rune on the ground. He clasped her hands over her, laying her hair – which had been braided tightly by Shay – over her shoulder. The elves had provided a dress for her, which was beautifully embroidered and wonderfully made, in colors of reds and browns. It accented her form exquisitely.

Shay had dressed Rune, before giving her to Eragon. Eragon knew where he wanted her to lay in her slumber.

The Menoa tree stretched upwards – seemingly endless. It's boughs were strong, and Eragon knew he could feel that Rune was safe beneath it. He reached out to touch the tree's conscience.

_Take care of her,_ he told it. There was no reply, but a pleasant thrum emanated from the tree. Eragon patted it's massive trunk, marveling again at how tiny he felt beneath it.

Walking away, Eragon smiled. _Soon, Rune,_ he told her, wherever she was. _Soon you will be restored._


	12. Bedtime Stories and Sweet Dreams

**_Eragon…_**

_Eragon found himself on an endless plain of white. The colorlessness surrounded him. His heart was pounding. Suddenly, a burst of color lit up the room. Rune._

_She was weightless, as if floating in water. Eragon tried to approach her, but he couldn't move._

_Her eyes were closed. Her hair drifted around her face loosely, as if carried by currents of a stream. She wore a gown of purest white, but it only proved as a distraction. Eragon could see right through it. Somehow, though, it didn't matter. This wasn't **Rune**, and Eragon barely noticed her exposure. This Rune was different than the real one._

_Her eyes snapped open, meeting his. Her skin was paler than usual, and in the whiteness, the green of her irises stood out wonderfully._

_**Eragon…You have failed me,** said the dream Rune. Her lips didn't move, but the words bounced around his mind all the same. Her words echoed._

_**I'm sorry,** he thought at her._

_**I am part of you, and you part of me,** she told him. The dream Rune moved into a standing position, but there was no floor for her bare feet to touch. She smiled._

_**What can I do to restore you?**_

_The dream Rune shrugged. **I know not. All I know is that I am locked within you. And I want out.**_

_**I'm trying**, Eragon said sadly. **I'm trying my best.**_

_Rage flared in the dream Rune's all-too-green eyes. **Try harder!** she snapped._

_Eragon felt pain race up his legs, through his body, and into his mind. **Stop this!** he begged, but the pain only worsened. The dream Rune laughed, the first real sound yet. It was an evil, spiteful laugh, and coming from Rune – even the dream one – it felt terrible and wrong._

_**I am locked in this vault of your mind,** she said over the ringing pain in his ears. **Let me out!**_

_**I can't!** Eragon cried, falling to the white floor. **I can't! Stop!**_

_She sneered at him. **You are weak, Eragon Shadeslayer. Súndavar would have restored me in the first week.**_

_**Just make it stop!** Eragon called at her. The pain was too intense. His head felt like it would burst._

_The dream Rune smiled cruelly. **Oh, Eragon. Sad, stupid little Eragon. Why would I make it stop? I've just begun.**_

_She took a step towards him, the see through silk swirling around her ankles. She placed a hand his back, tracing where his scar had been. Pain like none Eragon had ever felt before shot through his back._

_**Hmm…** she mused. With unordinary strength, she pulled him to his feet. She met his eyes with hate. Suddenly Eragon saw what she had become. Her father. The rage and insanity in the dream Rune's eyes could come from no where else._

_With surprising ferocity, the dream Rune pressed her body against his. She felt hard against him, unlike the real Rune. Her lips met his for a moment, then she pulled away._

_**Oh, little Eragon…** she murmured, that evil grin still on her face. **You are in quite over your head here.**_

_**What are you talking about?** he demanded, relieved that the pain had stopped. His lips burned from where hers had been pressed to them. **You aren't Rune.**_

_**Am I not?** she asked, fixing her emerald gaze on him. **People have many sides, little Eragon. Perhaps this is one of mine.**_

_**You're insane.**_

_She cackled. **Perhaps. Does it matter?**_

_**You aren't Rune,** Eragon repeated. **You are Galbatorix.**_

_**Makes sense, doesn't it?** She giggled insanely. **Just as you are Morzan.**_

_**I am nothing like him,** Eragon snapped at her._

_**Aren't you? I think you are…**she hugged herself and rocked back and forth with demented glee. **You can feel the violence in you, Eragon. You can't deny it, for I am within you and can read your thoughts.**_

_**I control myself.**_

**_Do you?_ **_she cackled again. **We are so much alike…Morzan's blood runs within your veins, Galbatorix's within mine. You can't deny it.**_

_**I can and do. We are nothing alike. And you are not Rune.**_

_She shrugged. **Think what you wish. You know I'm right.**_

_Eragon turned away from her. He wanted to wake up from this terrible dream. He wanted to wake up and be rid of this terrible **thing** in his mind. This wasn't Rune._

_**Ooooh…** she murmured. **It would seem as though it is time to awaken…Goodbye, little Eragon. I shall see you soon.**_

_She faded back to white. Eragon let out a sigh. Suddenly light and color flooded his world._

oooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon kneeled beside Rune. The _real_ Rune. Not the insane, broken little being in his dream. The Menoa Tree stretched upwards endlessly. It seemed as though it – she – was watching with interest.

"I'm doing my best, Rune," Eragon told the sleeping girl softly. "Just a little while longer."

_If only he had some clue_. But Eragon knew nothing. And there was no one who did. This was a first for all the elves. Even Islanzadí hadn't been alive during the last andlát slytha. He hadn't asked Oromis – the elderly Rider hadn't shown his face so far in Eragon's visit – but he had a feeling he knew what the answer would be.

It was a moment before Eragon realized Arya was standing there. Her eyes flicked from him to Rune, then back again. "May I sit?"

"Surely. Go ahead," Eragon answered. Arya settled cross legged next to him.

"I dreamed about her again last night," he said with a shiver. "She…she said horrible things."

Arya examined her face. "The Rune you dreamt of…was she Rune?"

Eragon understood what she meant immediately. "No. She was her father. She told me that the same was true of me. That I was Morzan."

Arya pursed her lips, but said nothing.

"She said she was _locked_ within me," Eragon continued. "_Locked in this vault of your mind._"

Arya nodded. "Eragon, there is hope. She may be locked inside, but somewhere there is a key for every lock."

Eragon frowned. He hadn't thought about it that way. "What is the key?"

"I don't know," Arya admitted. "It is different for everyone, I suppose."

"What about the first time this happened? What was the key then?"

Arya looked away. "There wasn't one."

Eragon felt his heart sink. "But…but how…"

Arya shook her head sadly at him. "Eragon, the first person who slept as Rune does never awoke."

Eragon put his head in his hands. "Then all is hopeless. I'll never succeed."

"That's your insecurity speaking," Arya told him. "I understand your pain. But you forget, all is not lost. This is the third time in history, not the second."

"What happened the second time?"

"You have heard the story before, I have no doubt. But I shall recite it for you nonetheless."

Arya closed her eyes. "Long ago and far away there lived the fairest elf maiden to ever walk across the surface of the ground, named Aurora. Her beauty was beyond anything anyone could ever imagine or hope to compare to. Her father was a widower, who doted on her. Yet through all the riches and gifts, she remained ever kind and peaceful."

"Her father decided that although he gave her everything she wanted, the one thing she really needed was a mother's care. So he married again, for in those times elves practiced marriage just as humans."

"Her stepmother appeared kind and loving at first, but inside she envied Aurora's beauty. When Aurora's father, too, passed on, the true nature of her stepmother was revealed."

"The woman her father had married was a powerful sorceress. She stole Aurora's soul, sealing it within a sword and casting the sword into the lake. However, she realized her mistake. For Aurora wasn't dead. She fell into a deep sleep, from which no one could wake her."

Eragon was sure he had heard this story before. Where, he couldn't tell.

"Aurora's stepmother realized the wrong she had committed. She created a crystal coffin for Aurora, and laid her in the Valley of Blossoms, surrounded by the beautiful flowers. This taken care of, she ended her own life, overcome with guilt."

"One day, the sword was found by an evil man named Lord Ryrkzan. Ryrkzan proclaimed that he was the rightful hair to the throne. Only one person stood against him, a young smith's apprentice called Derik. They engaged in a bloody battle. In the end, Derik won. But Ryrkzan had scored many blows against him with the sword."

"Derik was offered money and fame. All these he denied, preferring to journey to the Valley of Blossoms, where he was sure he could live the rest of his days in peaceful solitude. Of course, this was not to be."

"For when Derik reached the Valley, what found he but Aurora, still sleeping in her crystal coffin. She was so beautiful. Derik found himself spurred on, by what no one knows. He pressed his lips to hers. In that moment, Aurora awakened."

"But Derik didn't carry Aurora's soul…" Eragon protested.

Arya smiled. "Ah, but he did. For when his blood was drawn with that sword, she mixed with him. They became one, just as you and Rune are."

Eragon suddenly realized where he had heard the story. How couldn't he have remembered before? He had heard it thousands of times when he was little. _Sleeping Beauty!_ He had all sorts of fond memories of the story being told to him, from being curled up in Garrow's lap to sitting in front of the fire and hearing it from Brom. "But…but that's just a legend," he spluttered. "A fairytale!"

"A legend it may be, but it is also a true tale," Arya told him.

Eragon thought back to when he was five. He, Roran, Katrina and Callista – a girl who had died of fever when they were both children – used to act out that story together. Katrina was always the evil stepmother, Roran lord Ryrkzan. Eragon had played the part of Derik, while Callista was always Aurora. He laughed at the memory. They had perfected their parts so well, Callista laying perfectly still in the flowerbed while everything unfolded around her, then opening her eyes, slowly at first, her eyelashes fluttering when Eragon had pressed his lips to her cheek.

He laughed again, remembering the look of disgust on Roran's face the first time they had played. _Eragon kissed a **girl**!_his cousin had sneered. Katrina had giggled, batting her eyelashes and murmuring about how 'romantic' it was.

Arya stood up, shaking him from his memories. "Eragon, I must go. I hope this has proved helpful." She walked off.

Eragon watched her go, then faced Rune again.

"A story!" he murmured to her. "The only clue I have is a bedtime story." He sighed.

Eragon examined Rune's flawless face, stroking her skin gently. She was soft, unlike the dream Rune. She was thinner than when he had first met her, her baby fat gone from time with the Varden. Her hair was long again, and plaited into a tight braid, which rested on her ribs.

Eragon laughed at the memory of Rune and Ellemo's catfight. Her eyes had been so _wrathful_, so full of hurt at being insulted. She had cried into his chest, Eragon remembered, soaking his tunic. He thought about the sadness in her green eyes when he had chopped her hair short with his simple sword. She had flipped her auburn tresses and sighed, flopping to the grass, moaning about not being able to braid it anymore.

"I miss you," he told her in a voice close to a whisper. "I miss you a lot."

He sat by her side for a while, holding her warm hand in his. The warmth of her skin comforted him, like it always did. She looked beautiful and serene. But something was wrong.

Eragon watched her for a moment longer, unsure what wasn't right. It nagged at the back of his mind. What could be wrong? All was peaceful about her face. A—

That was it! Rune was not peaceful. She was not serene. She was energetic and outgoing, a bubbling fountain of joy and hope and _life_. She may have looked peaceful and serene, but the look didn't suit her.

Her hair didn't belong in that tight, simple braid. Her body didn't look right, laying so straight, hands clasped. Such a pose was fit for laying in a coffin, not for Rune. Hands gentle, he unraveled her braid, splaying her hair around her.

He rolled her onto her side slowly, positioning her arms as a sort of pillow.

Her skin felt like silk. He rubbed his fingers along her arm, then across her collarbone. Without meaning to, he found his hands tracing her body. When he had first met her, she had resembled a girl, figureless beneath her cloak. Now her figure curved, her waist had thinned and her hips widened. She had chest as well, soft, womanly curves beneath her dress. There were other changes along with these. Eragon wondered why he hadn't noticed them before.

Suddenly Eragon felt horrible. How dare he touch her like this, when she could do nothing to prevent it? He removed his hands quickly, the once comforting warmth feeling like scalding water.

"I'm sorry," he apologized to her still form. "I…I shouldn't have done that."

He didn't expect her to respond. But very, very slowly, her mouth curled into a smile.

_Eragon Shadeslayer,_ said a voice in Eragon's head. Not Rune's voice, but close. Older, wiser. But very close. _It begins now._


	13. Terrible Knowing

**Author's Note: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to Mistress-of-Misery, for pointing out that white is, in fact, not colorless, and for foreseeing that Eragon leaving with Súndavar to Ellesméra would make the Varden (and Aberon with them) quite vulnerable indeed. Hearts to you, Kittie**

Lily crept into the barn, silent as a cat. A horse nickered at her, stomping its foot and snorting. She reached out to it with her mind. _Shhhh…_

Reaching out to stroke its nose, she examined the horse quietly. Yes, he would do fine. He had good, sturdy legs, and was tall enough.

"What are you doing in here?"

Lily whirled, her heart beating faster. A young stable hand – probably only a year or two older than she – stood in the doorway.

"You shouldn't be here," he said sternly. "These horses are property of the Varden."

Lily bit her lip. He took a step towards her. "Come on, miss."

She stepped backwards. "Don't come any closer," she whispered. _Or I'll have to consider you a 'hindrance'_, she added silently. Galbatorix had ordered her to destroy all 'hindrances'. And she really didn't want to do that.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, grabbing her wrist. Lily saw only one way to get out of this. She screamed.

She screamed and screamed until her voice was hoarse. It didn't take long for people to respond.

A small crowd of about five men and a round, curly haired woman rushed into the barn. They took one look at the sight in front of them – a young woman trying to get away from a man, who held her wrist – and jumped to hasty conclusions. Just as Lily knew they would.

"Adair!" the woman cried. She looked enraged. She batted his hand away from Lily's wrist, then wrapped a shawl around the girl's shoulders. "Come dear. Far? Deal with _your son_."

"He's your son too, woman," grumbled Far, a grizzled man. "But very well."

"Are you hurt?" the woman asked.

Lily shook her head, making her lip quiver just a little. "No, ma'am." She glanced over her shoulder at Adair, who was making protests of 'but I didn't!' and 'I wasn't going to!'. _I'm sorry for getting you in trouble,_ she thought. _But it's better than having to kill you_. But from the look on Far's face, Lily wasn't sure it was.

"Come," the woman said, putting an arm around her shoulder.

Lily burst into dramatic tears, covering her face with her hand to hide her smile. _It was just **too** easy._

"I'm so sorry, darling," said the woman, leading her away. "Adair really is a good boy…I don't know why he…"

Lily bit her lip, feeling a little guilty. _No,_ she assured herself. _You did the right thing. After all, otherwise he would be dead._

"Is there anything I can do for you?" the woman asked.

"I…I need a horse. I have to leave," Lily said, sniffing and wiping tears away from her face.

"You don't need to go so far, dear," assured the woman, "I'm sure it won't happen again."

"I have to go, all the same," Lily said with another sniff. "I…I just have to."

The woman searched her face. "Very well. Come, you can pick a horse from our stables."

An hour later, Lily was riding away from Aberon, riding a sturdy yearling. She knew that once she reached Ellesméra, the momentary joy she felt now would vanish, as she was forced to commit acts she didn't want to be guilty of. But for now she had the wind in her hair, and the moon shone down on her. The only thing that would make it better is if Shay were here. Or Murtagh…but Lily didn't like thinking about him. It made her heart do a funny flip-flop in her chest, and she didn't like it.

She had rode for about three hours when the mirror in her pack vibrated. Lily's heart began to beat faster. _No!_ She didn't want to touch it, didn't want to go near it. Her hand went to take it out. She tried to stop, but couldn't. _Why do I even bother any more? _she asked herself, _it's not as if I'm going to be able to stop myself._

But she knew the answer. Even if she knew that it would do no good, she had to try. For Shay.

She looked into the mirror, immediately entranced by its shiny surface. Galbatorix's face appeared; his familiar red hair, hard eyes, and merciless face.

"I've been watching you," he said, without greeting her. "You are moving fast."

"I got a horse in Surda," Lily intoned. Something about Galbatorix's gaze made her tell everything, no matter what she wanted to hide.

"Good. You'll head for Ellesméra."

"Yes."

A cruel smile curved around his lips. "Very good, Lily."

Lily didn't respond. She may have had to answer all his questions and such, but she didn't have to thank him.

"This quite makes up for your incompetence with the arrows," he told her. "I am impressed."

Again, Lily was silent.

"Are you not going to thank me for my commendation?" he asked, enjoying her helplessness against him.

Lily tried to bite back the words. "Th…than…thank…you…mi…milord," she said tightly. She bit her tongue until she tasted blood.

"You really should stop trying to resist," Galbatorix admonished. "My power is greater than yours, and your efforts bore me."

Lily frowned, but said nothing.

"Do as you wish, of course," said the king with a sly grin. "But you're only tiring yourself in your resistance."

Lily tried to break away from his gaze, but couldn't put the mirror down. She tried to close her eyes, but they wouldn't stay shut.

That thin, snakelike smile curled over Galbatorix's hard mouth yet again. "But all this small talk tires me," he said, "The reason of my contacting you tonight is to offer congratulations."

"For what?" Lily asked of her own will, before she could stop herself.

"For getting out of Surda, of course," Galbatorix replied. The look on his face made Lily's heart sink. He was up to something. "You see," he continued, "It would be quite the shame if you perished in the attack. After all," he said with a grin, "my armies wait for no one."

The magical image on the mirror faded, leaving Lily alone, a sinking, terrible horror in her heart.

_No,_ she cried within herself. _No!_

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lexia sat up in bed. Although the darkness that surrounded her was no different than usual, it was still night. She could tell from the stillness in the air. Unbidden by her, her heart started to beat faster. Something was wrong.

Something had awoken her.

Lexia slipped out of bed. She didn't stumble about, like most did in the dark. She knew this room, knew the little knot in the wood floor that always tripped Jo, knew the positions of the sparse furniture.

She slipped into her supple riding pants, which hung over the chair, as always. She slept in her tunic. She fastened her belt around her waist. On an instinct, she treaded her sword onto the belt. The blind girl moved to where she knew Jo's bed would be.

She groped for Jo, then found her shoulder. She shook it.

"Jo!" she hissed. "Get up!"

The other girl rolled over, pulling her pillow over her head. "Go to sleep," she mumbled, not entirely awake herself.

Lexia felt her heart continue to beat faster. "Jo!"

The other girl sat up. Lexi could feel the rush of air as she sung her feet out of bed. "Lexi, what is it?" she asked tiredly.

Lexia was already heading out the door. The castle corridors were dark, but she knew them too well to stumble. It was Jo who was blind here, not her.

She lead Jo through the twists and turns, guided by instinct. There was a hush to the air, as if the world held its breath. The absence of sound or movement disturbed Lexi. She could sense movement, sound. Without them she was lost.

They continued to run, neither knowing exactly where they would end up or even why they were running so.

"Lexi," Jo asked softly. "Lexi, what are you doing? Where are you taking us?"

Lexia didn't respond, but quickened her pace. They soared up a flight of spiral stairs, and Lexi realized where she had led them. This way was one of the only ones onto the top of the castle wall. This suited her purposes completely. Perhaps she had been heading there all along. She didn't know, and she wasn't about to stop to think about it.

The guard in the watchtower was asleep. Lexi heard his snoring, sensed his slumber. She didn't stop to wake him up, but continued, dashing out onto the wall, where archers would have been had there been a war.

The wind started up, pulling at her hair. She stopped, turning to face the plains beyond the city wall.

Although she could see nothing, Lexi _knew_. She felt the hatred, and the certainty. She heard Jo gasp behind her, but it meant nothing.

She could feel them. There were thousands, tens of thousands. Their emotions, feelings, their _life_ swirled around her. She stared out with sightless eyes, knowing beyond a doubt what was out there.

Thunder boomed in the sky, the first few drops of rain spattering her face. Lexi ignored them. Her heart was pounding now, racing like it would burst. Jo made the sign against evil, but Lexia ignored that too.

A dreadful sense of knowing enveloped her.

In that moment, Lexi _saw_.

She couldn't explain how or why, but she hated herself for it.

_My first sight,_ she thought bitterly. _And all I see is death._

**Author's Note: I know you all are going to absolutely hate me for this (cliffie and all), but I'm going on (dramatic pause) vacation (DUN DUN DUN DUUUUUN). No updates at least until Monday night, probably Tuesday. (sniff) I'll be working on it though. I haven't abandoned you. Hearts, Kittie**


	14. Remembrance

**Author's Note: This chapter is going to pull from some of the little details I mentioned in Daughter of Earth and Sky. You might not remember them, so PM me if you have questions about where they were. Hearts, Kittie**

_Rune floated in blackness. Her mind felt fuzzy and strange._

_**Who am I?** she asked herself. She couldn't remember. There was a name…_

_Eragon?_

_No…that wasn't right. She wasn't Eragon. Eragon was someone else…who?_

_**Is any of this real?**_

_**Or not?**_

_Another name came to her. Rune. That was it. It felt comfortable and familiar to her. Rune. She clung to the name, made it her own. Yes, she was Rune._

_**But who was Rune? Who am I?**_

_Rune didn't know. Things seemed to float just on the edge of her memory. There…there was a town…a mountain range…the Spike. No, that wasn't it. Spear? Spade? No… Spine? Yes. The Spine. She remembered the Spine…and a farm. A cozy farm. It jumped to her mind's eye. There was a man in the fields, a woman by the stove. She had kind eyes. Two boys played in front of the house with wooden swords._

_**What else?**_

_Something didn't feel right about these memories…_

_There were other memories too…a castle, with dark hallways…a blonde serving girl, tall and lanky and beautiful, who had forgotten to dust…what was her name? Did it matter? Something with an L…Lisa. No, it was a flower. A flower beginning with L. Lavendar…Lotus…Lilac…Lily! It was Lily. Why that mattered, Rune didn't know, but somehow it did._

_The memories didn't fit together. A castle? A farm? They couldn't both be true…_

_She delved deeper, trying to remember more about herself. Deeper into the blackness of a mind that was entirely unfamiliar to her, deeper into the uncertain depths that awaited._

_There was something about a man…yes. A man. Mur...something. Mur…Murtagh. Yes, that was his name. She felt warm when she thought of him. He had hugged her…kissed her cheek…was he her brother? His face was clear in her mind. He didn't look much like her…then again, Rune couldn't remember what she looked like. So maybe he did._

_And a dragon…Thorn. Yes, Thorn. She remembered him clearly as well._

_Another dragon…not like Thorn. Black. Big. Scary. Shrew…Shruikan…yes. He was old, ancient. At first, Rune thought he was evil. But more faded in. She wasn't so sure. There was something about him…_

_And an old man. Persnickety, good at telling stories…Brom. Had she met him before? She didn't know…_

_Vile beasts. Ra'zac. She felt a strange urge to kill them. **Revenge**! her heart cried. Revenge for what? Had they done something to her? It was all a blur…_

_Memories of a curly haired woman…something about a Vault…a girl of royal blood…_

_Royal blood! A princess! Rune was a princess, she suddenly knew with certainty._

_Then she had doubts. No…that couldn't be. Why would she have memories of a farm? Who was woman with the curly hair? Certainly a princess wouldn't have anything to do with that._

_No…she was common blood. Common. A servant girl, maybe? She entertained this thought to herself. Yes…the farm could be from her childhood. The castle would be where she had worked…that fit. That could work._

_So that's what she was. A servant girl. The woman in with the kind eyes must have been her mother. The two boys playing…her brothers, perhaps? What about the dragons?_

_That stumped her. Certainly a servant girl wouldn't have anything to do with dragons._

_The thought of princesses brought another picture to her mind. A woman. Tall and beautiful, strong looking with steady eyes…pointed ears. An elf? Hmmm…Arya. That was her name. The elf princess._

_Surely a servant girl wouldn't know the elf princess…_

_Rune was utterly baffled. These memories…they confused her. Were they hers? Or someone else's? That name came back to her. Eragon._

_As soon as the name was there, it flitted away again, replaced by another boy…with a scar. She remembered the scar. Something about a shadow. No, not a shadow, a Shade. Or maybe it was a shadow…The boy's face was blurred in her mind. She couldn't remember who he was._

_And a sword! There was a sword as well. The color of blood. Named…misery. Zar'roc._

_There was a man with angry eyes and red hair. He made Rune feel afraid. He screamed at her soundlessly. His face began to fade._

_**Don't go!** she cried, grasping for the memory, desperate for anything that would tell her about herself._

_The man came into view again. He screamed more, his face turning the color of his hair. There was a little girl too, and a little boy…her hair matched his, a dull copper color, but besides that there were no similarities between the girl and the man. She was small, but not timid. She scurried away from him, hiding behind the door. Who she was, Rune didn't know._

_All was quiet. Even when Screaming Man yelled, the sound didn't reach Rune._

_Another man came into view. Somehow he had always been there, but Rune hadn't noticed him. The first man, the angry one, screamed at him too._

_Screaming Man drew the Not There Man's sword from its scabbard. Rune didn't want to watch anymore, but she couldn't push the memory away. She knew what was going to happen, in that way people sometimes do. Like she'd already seen the story, almost…_

_Screaming Man plunged the sword through Not There Man's chest. Not There Man cried out in agony, sinking to the floor. The little shadow boy started crying. Screaming Man threw the sword at him, cleaving a cut across his chest. Red blood filled Rune's mind._

_Copper Girl darted from behind the door. She held the shadow boy's hand, humming softly. Screaming Man hit her._

_The memory faded to another. There was no picture this time, only a steady throbbing hum. A sort of wordless, chanting melody. Then, out of no where, words sprang to her mind._

_**The sun has set, the hunt begins**_

_**So settle down to sleep**_

_**I sing a song of dragon sins**_

**_And blood oaths meant to keep_**

_**ooo**_

_**This lullaby I sing to thee**_

_**Of dragons long gone past**_

_**Great wings and claws, a flight so free**_

_**A heart was meant to last**_

_**ooo**_

**_A story told, of war and strife_**

**_Across the plains and land_**

**_Robbed dragon, elf, of precious life_**

_**When both did take their stand**_

_**ooo**_

_**So union rose, between the two**_

**_Of earth and of the sky_**

**_Of Dragon bold and Rider true_**

_**None more would live to die**_

_Rune felt sad as the song faded. She could picture a dragon mother hunched over her brood, humming it softly and solemnly in the growing darkness. For that was what it was, she realized. A dragon lullaby._

_**But where had she heard it?** She didn't know._

_**Where am I?** she asked herself. But she had no answers. She did not even know who she was. Much less where._

_Unsure and uneasy, Rune continued to wait. Wait and remember. That was all there was to do._

_**Eragon…**_

**Author's Note: Sorry I didn't update earlier, but I got back from the Villa late last night. :D Hearts, Kittie**


	15. Hope wins the Battle

**Author's Note: Sorry the ending to "Terrible Knowing" was a little confusing. I wrote it in a rush. I was going to change it, but now that you've all read it I'll just explain it in this chapter. Hope this clears some things up. Hearts, Kittie**

A horn sounded, startling Nasuada from sleep. The stomp of booted feet echoed down the hall. Nasuada was already up and dressing. Something was wrong.

She slipped into her tunic, fastening her father's sword at her side. Her feet went into her soft leather boots. Hand on the sword, she strode towards the door.

Before she could reach it, someone pounded on the wood.

Nasuada tightened her grip on her sword. "Who's there?" she called, dreading the answer.

"It's me."

Orrin.

She opened the door. Orrin's eyes were wild, his tunic rumpled. "We're being attacked! Five thousand soldiers. Crest of Galbatorix. Northern side," he gasped.

Nasuada brushed past him, into the hall. Men were running this way and that. She looked around desperately.

_Must remain calm…_

"Where are the children?" she asked. "They have to be brought to safety."

"Trianna and the witch woman are taking care of them."

"Elva?"

Orrin paused. "I assume she's with them."

Nasuada took a cleansing breath, trying to still her racing heart. "What about the apprentices?"

Orrin looked at the ground. "I don't know."

Nasuada growled with annoyance. Couldn't he do anything right? They were in the middle of a crisis here, and all he could think about was whether or not she was okay. Pathetic. The children and apprentices should have been taken care of first.

"Come on," she ordered, running in the direction of the watchtower. She grabbed his hand, dragging him up the stairs.

What she saw made her heart skip a beat. Or three. She felt cold.

"We're doomed."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Swords clashed. Lexia dodged. She felt the rush, heard the dangerous _swish_ as a sword slid through the place her head had been.

She continued to dodge, weave through and around the soldiers. The sounds of battle surrounded her, and Lexi knew that this could only end two ways.

Her sight had faded again. She had been left in darkness. She didn't know what had happened, or why. It didn't matter. Perhaps she had imagined it. Whatever it had been, she was glad it was gone. Darkness was her world, and she was comfortable in it.

She felt Jo somewhere to her left. The other girl was a mighty fighter. Lexi couldn't hope to best her, even on the practice courts.

They shouldn't be out here. Apprentices weren't supposed to fight, they were supposed to watch and learn. Yet here they were, their swords licking across the enemy, fighting beside the men of the Varden and the men of Aberon.

Lexi rolled, avoiding two swords and striking with her own. Jo's battle cry echoed in her ears, but she ignored it. Nothing mattered but staying alive.

The darkness that enveloped her offered her comfort and strength. She couldn't get distracted by bright colors or the flashing mirrors that soldiers often used to blind their attackers. But there was so much sound…

Screams. The clink of metal on metal. The pound of boots. The jingle of armor. A raven crowed.

Raven.

_The bringer of death._

Lexi let out a silent prayer to every god she knew. _Protect us._

She was getting distracted. Her foot caught on something, sending her sprawling. _NO!_

She sensed someone above her. She could picture the nasty grin on his face. Picture his sword…

It swung downwards, towards her. She tried not to scream.

There was a resounding _clash_ as a sword met the one that had been Lexi's doom. _Jo_.

"Leave her alone."

Jo's voice was barely audible above the clashing, the screaming. But Lexi heard the venom, the sheer, unquestioning loyalty to her and hatred of the enemy. She got to her feet, retrieving her sword.

Back to back, the warrior apprentices battled. They covered each other's weaknesses, played each other's strengths. They moved as one, their minds blending into a common resolve. _Defend the Varden. Defend each other. Defend Justice._

The sun was rising. It's first few rays danced on Lexi's skin. Good. Now the others would not fight in darkness…but to her, everything was darkness. She shook the thought away. Fight. Kill. Or die.

ooooooooooooooooooooo

Nasuada strung her bow.

"Fire!"

Together with the archers, Nasuada released. Arrows rained down on the troops, the ones who stood at attention beyond the fray of the battle lines.

"There are too many," she shouted to Orrin. _Too many…_

"Hope wins the battle."

Nasuada blinked. That was unexpected. She knew the verse from an old fairytale her father had told her as a child. But it sounded strange, coming from Orrin's lips.

She notched another arrow into her bow.

"Fire!"

Another volley of arrows flew towards Galbatorix's men.

Orrin looked at Nasuada, stringing his own bow. Determination, hope, and a tinge of underlying sorrow shone in his eyes.

_So much death…_

Orrin turned his gaze downwards, to the chaos below. His soldiers, along with the Varden. A single unit, fighting for a common cause. Common cause…single unit…

The thought struck sparks in his mind. If they made it out of here alive…

A young brunet girl ran up to them, ducking low to avoid arrows or magic from the enemy.

"Lady Nasuada!" she yelped, "The children are all accounted for, ma'am." Her skin was pale, terrified.

"What about the apprentices, Ellemo?" Nasuada questioned the young mage.

"Fire!"

Ellemo looked at the ground. "Most of them."

"What do you mean?"

Ellemo shuffled nervously. "Alexia, Jo'Hanna, Tristan, and Royce—" she broke off, bursting into sobs.

"Fire!"

Nasuada let out a shriek of annoyance. "Can't those idiot apprentices do as they are told? They'll get themselves killed!"

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

"We're in the middle of a battle, Ellemo. Say what you want."

Ellemo bit her lip, stilling the tears. "They…they would die to protect the Varden, ma'am." She raised her head, a new steel covering some of the fear in her eyes. "All of us would."

Nasuada pursed her lips. "Very well. Report back to Trianna."

"She told me to help you in whatever way I could, ma'am." The mage girl was obviously scared stiff at the idea of staying out here, in the middle of a battle.

Nasuada met Orrin's eyes, then shrugged. "Alright. Try to disable some of their troops."

"How?" she whimpered.

"However Trianna taught you," Nasuada said snappishly. "We've got a battle to fight. Get on it!"

"I'm afraid."

Nasuada blinked, then nodded. "Do your best."

"Fire!"

Ellemo nodded, settling on the wall. Fear choked her. She was terrified. So much death…destruction…it was terrible. She tried to push down the fear, but only succeeded in breaking into more tears. She wasn't a hero. She never had been.

But…she had to be. She had to protect her friends. _Royce._ His name in her heart gave her a new strength.

She reached out with her mind. Thoughts and feelings not her own rushed into her head. The pain was terrible. She drew away with a shriek.

She looked at Nasuada. Failure meant death for her Lady, the King, and her friends. She grimaced, before delving into the mess of life again.

The pain was startling, but Ellemo fought through it. Soon it settled. She found herself in the middle of a section of soldiers, who were yet unaffected by the battle. Their names, their histories, their thoughts—they were all at her hand, should she chose to draw them out.

_I'm sorry,_ she said in their heads. She felt the shock that rippled through them, as she drew life from each. Then blackness.

The mage girl retreated back into her own mind. She felt energetic, better than she had in months. All that life…hers.

Nasuada was staring at her in amazement. Ellemo's gaze fell on the section of troops she had killed. Her mouth fell open. That must have been…five hundred soldiers!

Lady Nasuada blinked. "Whatever you did, keep doing it."

Ellemo nodded once, then surged into the enemy again.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Jo felt Lexi tiring. The girl was amazing, striking with accuracy and swiftness. But she was small and lithe, not built for endurance. She didn't complain, but gradually, she had leaned on Jo more.

The warrioress kicked out at a soldier, swirling her sword in an arc. His head tumbled to the ground. A clean cut.

She glanced wildly around, her heart pounding like a thousand horses. The soldiers just kept coming. It was hopeless.

_Hope wins the battle._

The words in her head startled her. For a second, her sword faltered. A blade slashed from no where, cleaving a cut across her chest.

The voice had been Ellemo's. But that was impossible. Ellemo would never have stayed during a battle. She would have run, hidden. That was just how she was.

The pain in Jo's chest was terrible, a distracting, burning fire.

It healed. The wound closed up, the trail of blood stilled. What had happened? Who healed her?

_Fight, Jo._

Ellemo's voice again.

_Ellemo?_

_Just fight, idiot!_

Definitely Ellemo. No one else got away with calling Jo an idiot. Except maybe Tristan. But he didn't count.

Behind her, Lexi seemed endowed with new energy. Her blade arced and parried, thrust and slid around her enemies with the same vigor as it had.

Inside, Jo cheered. Things were looking up.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Orrin blinked stupidly. "She did what?"

Nasuada's face was split by a huge grin. "She stole energy, _life,_ from the enemy troops."

Orrin wasn't sure where this was going.

"_And gave it to ours_."

Orrin's mouth fell open. "Well done, young mage."

Nasuada turned to an archer. "I want all of Du Vrangr Gata up here. Now!"

Ellemo didn't hear them. She sat statue-still, her face crossed in concentration. So much life…all at her fingertips. It overwhelmed her. But she was glad. Jo and Lexia were alive and well. She had healed their wounds, gave them strength. She may not be a fighter, but she could help.

_Tristan…_her mind searched for her male companions. _Royce…_

oooooooooooooooooooo

_Fight!_

Lexi felt refreshed again. Sleep wasn't so tempting. Her mind was sharp again, her muscles had quit aching.

Her blade kept dancing. A man cried out, and Lexi faltered for a moment. Pain shot into her shoulder. No. Just keep fighting. Don't think, don't stop.

The wound healed. _Ellemo_. She had known that her burst of strength had been from the other girl. It seemed she found her courage after all…

Lexia parried another blow. The opposing blade glanced off hers painfully, jarring her wrist. She yelped with the pain. It was soon eased by Ellemo.

_Thank you,_ Lexia told her, wherever she was.

_Fight._

Lexia continued battling.

There was still hope.

oooooooooooooooooooo

Royce felt Tristan's back press against his. They were gaining ground, pushing the enemy away from Aberon. But they could only keep it up so long.

_Hope wins the battle_.

Ellemo. He knew her voice, her mind as well as his own. She had talked to him in his head before, on that night when they had abandoned childhood and became adults.

_If I get through this,_ he told himself, _I'll ask her to marry me_.

He continued to fight. After all, what else could he do? The Varden, his friends, and his love were in danger. There was no other choice.

_Hope,_ his heart called. _Hope wins the battle._


	16. Stop Acting Like a Child!

Shay took a deep breath, diving beneath the water. It felt cold and refreshing on her bare skin.

She kicked her legs, swimming downwards, into the depths below. She moved fluidly, keeping her arms at her sides to conserve energy. It felt wonderful to swim again. Surda had hot, dry summers, unlike her dear Dras-Leona, with its constant cool breezes coming off Leona Lake.

She had Lily used to play in that lake. They used to compete at who could hold their breath longer, or swim farther without coming up for air. Sadness flooded Shay's heart.

_No._ She pushed the thoughts away. Swimming was something she loved to do. Memories of Lily couldn't haunt that too. She wouldn't let them.

She let a few bubbled escape her lips as she reached the bottom. Moonlight filtered in from the surface, casting flitting shapes over her body.

Shifting through the sand at the bottom, Shay found a shell that appealed to her. It was drab and a muddy brown color, but a chip on the edge revealed a rainbow of pearlescent pink and white hues. Hidden beauty. She put the shell in the bag she had brought down with her.

Stroking with her arms, Shay continued to search the bottom. In the whitish half-light she uncovered half a dozen more tiny treasures. A stone that would glow the color of Saphira's scales if she polished it, a smooth piece of marble rock that felt strangely warm and comforting, a shell that looked like a dragon's tooth. They all disappeared into her bag.

A familiar, slightly uncomfortable ticking in her chest told her she was running out of air. She let a few more bubbles, anxious to prolong her stay under the waves. Nothing could bother her down here. It was a separate world, a world with no duties or rumors, no sword practice or stupid memories that wouldn't leave her alone. No worries.

When finally Shay could hold her breath no longer, she began towards the surface, far above. She kicked with her legs and stroked powerfully with her arms. Her chest felt empty and tight because of lack of air.

She broke the surface, gasping to fill her lungs. Ahhhh….that felt better.

All was silent, besides the slight splash Shay made as she treaded water. But the former captain had a distictive tingle in the back of her neck, an instinct she had developed over the time she had spent protecting Orrin from harm. She was being watched.

Shay scanned the shoreline with careful eyes, looking for the source of her unease. She couldn't see anyone…the shore was clear. Just sand, and…there! In the tree by the shore where she had left her clothes. A branch swayed gently in the wind—except there was no wind to sway in.

"I can see you!" she cried to the figure in the tree. "Show yourself!" Now that she knew the general position, she could make out a shadowy outline.

The figure dropped from the tree to the soft, white sand. Shay recognized the way it moved, like liquid metal, strong, supple. Cocky quicksilver. Vanir.

"Well spotted, Everwood," he called, raising his arms over his head in mock surrender. "Well spotted indeed."

Shay sank lower in the water to hide her bare shoulders. Nonetheless, Vanir had noticed. He laughed, not quite unkindly, but far from kindly either.

Shay swam towards the shore, making sure to stay low in the water. She kept her eyes on him the entire time, until she reached the shore.

"Turn around," she ordered curtly. Vanir raised an eyebrow, not responding.

"Turn around," she repeated. Vanir looked at her meaningfully, still silent.

Shay stared at him in disbelief, reading the meaning in his eyes. "Vani—"

He shrugged wordlessly.

Shay sighed. "Turn around, _please_," she grumbled discontently.

Vanir smiled half-sincerely, turning obligingly away from her. Shay scrambled out of the water, laid her bag on the ground, and started to slip into her tunic, her back to Vanir. She finished dressing and turned back towards him, only to find he had resumed his original position and was staring at her with faint amusement.

"People don't watch other people dress," Shay snapped, feeling less violated than she thought she would have in this situation. Annoyance made her snappish.

Vanir gave a snorting laugh. "Actually, they do. Rather often, in fact."

Shay groped for a comeback. He was right, or course. As usual. "Well…well…" finding no words, she resorted to grumpy silence.

Vanir shrugged, unconcerned about her feelings on the matter. He saw nothing wrong with what he had done. It was strange Shay found it so objectionable…

The stood in brooding stillness, looking out at the lake. Shay thought she would burst. Could he be any more annoying?

"What's up with you, anyway?" she asked bluntly. Fixing him with her blue gaze.

He blinked, incomprehension in his eyes.

"What happened to the person I danced with?" Shay pushed. "What have I done to make you hate me?"

Vanir looked at her, a faint, condescending smile on his lips. "Is that what this is about? My actions in Lillendale?"

Shay hesitated. Something on his face told her she had overlooked something important. Her silence provided all the confirmation Vanir needed.

"I told you things would change when we reached Ellesméra, did I not?" he asked contemptuously.

"But why did you pretend?" Shay inquired. "You must have known your deception would lead to this."

"What is _this_?" Vanir questioned, his gaze making Shay feel weak. "Are you saying you harbor feelings for me?"

His voice was light and uncaring, as if it didn't matter at all. As if she was just a stupid little girl with a crush. Shay folded her arms over her chest, looking away and refusing to answer.

Vanir rolled his eyes heavenward. "_Shay_," he said, as if explaining something so totally obvious that she was a complete idiot not to know already. "Lillendale is a place of rejoicing. A place of passion."

"I don't understand," Shay said crossly.

Vanir sighed, rubbing his temples. "Lillendale is different from other cities," he began. "It is a place of endless celebration. What happens in Lillendale stays in Lillendale. Every elf knows that."

"You're saying that nothing that happens there matters?" she asked, appalled, "You _used_ me for some stupid enjoyment?"

"Shay, you don't understand. The elves of Lillendale weave magic into their songs. It's a wonderful, passionate, intoxicating magic, but it often makes people act foolishly. I got carried away."

Shay laughed disbelievingly. "You blame your lying on the _music_? That's pathetic."

"_Shay,_ my intention was not to cause you harm. I should have been in better control. But you don't have to act like a child."

"A _child_?" Shay was close to yelling now. "Vanir, you _deceived_ me. You made me think you felt something."

Vanir gave a tired sigh, as if dealing with a baby having a temper tantrum. "_Shay_—"

"Stop _Shay_ing me!"

"Everwood," he said instead, "despite what I may have said or done in Lillendale, I am not attracted to you. Stop acting so immature."

"Swear it," Shay hissed, ignoring him.

Confusion flickered across Vanir's face.

"Swear you feel nothing for me," Shay repeated.

"I sw—"

"In the Ancient Language."

Vanir opened his mouth, then shut it again. "I don't have to explain myself to you," he told her coldly. He turned and stalked away, pausing only to spit, "grow up," in her general direction.

The instant he was out of sight, Shay felt a scream welling up in her chest. She pushed it down, content to scream inside, silently. She didn't want to give Vanir the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to her.

Only when she had run out of inner screams did a thought cross her mind.

_Vanir had not sworn_.


	17. Death of a Hero

Lexia wasn't aware of anything but the battle. She wasn't aware of Jo at her back, or the raven flying overhead. There were three things that existed in her world: her sword, her enemy, and her hope. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

_Thrust! Side cut! Backhand side! Overhand!_

Her blade moved swiftly. Someone cried out, then was silent. The battle was still heavy, but the enemy was losing faith. They didn't fight as hard, their swords didn't clash and sing and dance. They parried and thrusted, but there was no heart in their attack.

_Thrust! Backstep! Cross parry! Side cut!_

Lexi felt the resistance as her sword cleaved her attacker across the chest. He should have blocked…these men were getting sloppy.

_Backstep! Overhand backhand! Backhand side! Parry!_

Lexia was glad she couldn't see the blood as her attacker stumbled to the ground. She ended his life quickly with a clean swipe at his neck. It was better than to let him suffer. War itself was suffering enough.

_Wait_.

No one came at her. The barrage of swords had stopped…silence. No clashes, or swishes, or movement. Emptiness. Lexi's world expanded again. She heard Jo's panting, felt the release of pressure as the other girl leaned forward to kick a severed body part with her booted toe.

_There!_

A moment before the pain hit her, Lexi's neck tingled. Then all she could feel was the white, searing agony in her chest. She groped for breath, but found none. She tried to scream, but all she succeeded in was a choked bubbling of blood in her throat.

_Pain…_

She collapsed. Above her, she was vaguely aware of Jo's sword. Something fell at her side. But it didn't matter. Then the pain was gone. She was numb. A new type of darkness surrounded her. She felt her heart stilling.

_Keep beating_…_please_.

Things went red.

_Then nothing._

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"We bury our dead at sunrise."

Nasuada's eyes were hard, her voice tight. She held her shoulders stiffly, the perfect picture of a strong, capable leader. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn't wipe it away.

Orrin stood at her side, looking out at the surviving soldiers. They stared back at him solemnly.

Jo sobbed openly in Tristan's arms. _Bury our dead_.

_Bury Lexi_.

Ellemo stood near them, Royce at her side. He held her hand tightly, but neither spoke. There were no words to say that expressed their grief.

"She was my best friend," Jo whispered, her tears soaking Tristan's bloodstained tunic. "I can't believe she's gone."

Tristan smoothed her golden-brown hair, rocking her gently.

"I tried," Jo hissed, pulling away from him and staring at her hands in disbelief. "I moved as fast as I could. But she was already gone." Her voice was eerie, a ghostlike whisper.

"You did all you could."

"No. I could have saved her. I should have tried harder." Jo started sobbing again, and Tristan pulled her to him.

Ellemo placed her head on Royce's shoulder. Tears gleamed in her eyes, but they didn't fall. "Lexi wouldn't want you to be sad," she murmured.

Jo turned on her, fire in her eyes. "Lexi wouldn't want to be dead either!" she spit.

Then Jo stopped. Her hand flew to her mouth. _Dead_. Saying it aloud made it ten times more real. _Lexi was dead._ There was nothing any of them could do to bring her back.

_Dead._

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

The apprentices kneeled at the mound of earth soberly, eyes on the headstone Ellemo had created.

_Alexia_

_Friend, Hero_

_Dream of Freedom_

Royce placed the single rose on the grave, his face drawn tight with sadness. They sat in silence for a long time. Finally, Jo stepped forward. She laid Lexi's sword across the grave.

"You died for us all," she whispered. "You died for the Varden, and for freedom. And you died for Hope. I honor you."

Ellemo touched the headstone. "Wherever it is you go, may your journey be safe."

"May the wind blow in your hair," Royce continued, placing his hand on Ellemo's.

Tristan added his hand. "May the sun dance on your skin."

Jo placed her hand on top of the pile. "And may Hope sing in your heart."

"_Eka celöbra ono_," they said in unison.

_I honor you_.


	18. Kinship of Riders

**Author's Note: This one's to all you Lexi-Lovers. Hope you're not toooo devastated. Hearts, Kittie.**

_The Dance of Snake and Crane_, Súndavar thought grumpily. _What a stupid name._

Oromis glanced at him, as if picking up on his thoughts. The old elf's eyes were hard, yet he didn't deviate from the exercise. Nor did he reprimand Súndavar for his thoughts.

"Bring your head down again…_slowly, _Súndavar. Feel the stretch in each vertebrae of your spine…"

Súndavar _was_ trying. It wasn't fair of Oromis to correct him. But he had never been flexible, when you were a slave it was strength that mattered.

_Ha!_ A slave. Súndavar had almost forgotten. Who would have thought that he, who had spent most of his childhood sleeping in the bottom of a crate, eating rotten food off the ground, would end up as a Dragon Rider? He wished the others could see him now.

Reminders of his past made him think of Rune. It was she who had made this possible. Without her, he would still be in that crate. Either that or be dead. Master Sigfrëd had never liked him…

He remembered the way Rune had plunged her dagger into the man's gut with satisfaction. She had looked so wonderful, with that fire in her eyes and the blood of evil on her fingers.

His heart ached for her. If Lexi was here, perhaps he could forget. But she hadn't come to Ellesméra with him. So Rune was all he had.

And she wasn't exactly in any position to do anything with or for him at the moment.

He moved into the next pose, conscious of Eragon's eyes on his back. He could almost feel the other Rider's laughter.

_It's not my fault I'm terrible at this_, he grumbled inwardly.

Rune would have loved this. She would have helped him stretch, kept his spirits up. He could envision her in the poses, her dark copper hair flowing down her back.

He glanced at Eragon, who was moving fluidly, able to do the motions without the slightest hesitation. Rage flared in the boy.

_He has more practice than you, Súndavar-finiarel,_ Oromis told him in his mind._ Resent him not._

Surprise made Súndavar tense up, toppling over. He landed in the stream.

Eragon gave a short bark of laughter. Oromis stood up from the pose, before striding over Súndavar, who was shaking frigid water from his hair. He blinked up at his master with his dark green eyes.

"Uh…sorry?"

"You allowed yourself to be distracted, Súndavar. See it does not happen again. Come, we resume."

"But I'm soaking wet!" Súndavar protested.

"A result of your own actions. Perhaps it will serve as a lesson."

Súndavar grumbled discontentedly, before picking himself up out of the stream. The trio resumed the exercise. Súndavar did even worse than before, as he was shivering with cold.

Eragon felt a momentary touch of affection for the younger boy. After all, he had been thrown into this world through no fault of his own, and despite any grudges between them, he really was fairly nice. And he tried his best.

"_Briswir du adurna,"_ he whispered.

Sundavar stopped shivering. He glanced back at Eragon. For a moment, Eragon thought he would protest. However, acceptance rather than hatred shone in his eyes. _Very well_, they seemed to say. There was no friendship in his face, but neither was there utter loathing, and that was enough for Eragon.

If Oromis picked up on the slight change in his apprentices' views of one another, he said nothing.

Sundavar blinked. _What had just happened?_ Eragon…had helped him? That didn't seem right. It should have made him angry. _He didn't need Eragon's help_. Instead, he felt something he had never thought he could feel about Eragon. What it was…kinship, perhaps? Maybe it was the realization that they were in the same boat, whether they liked it or not. It was best to make the best of things.

A sudden, unexpected burst of pain in his chest made Súndavar stop. His blood rushed in his ears. It felt like fire. He fell over, unable to think or move. He felt both Eragon and Oromis at his side, but his vision had clouded.

The source of his pain was not his own, he knew that. It seemed to be coming…Lexi's ring! It burned on his hand, a ring of hot coals.

"R…ing…" he managed to gasp. Quick, gentle fingers worked the ring off his hand. The pain faded.

Súndavar's vision cleared. Eragon held the ring in his palm, staring at Súndavar with a mixture of concern and confusion.

"Something is wrong," Súndavar whispered, taking the ring from Eragon. Fear kept him from slipping into on his finger again.

"What happened?" Eragon asked, turning to Oromis.

The elf took the ring and bounced it a few times in his hand. He paused, closing his eyes. "I sense much agony. All is not well."

Súndavar's breath caught in his throat. "Why? What's wrong? Ebrithil, what happened?"

Oromis didn't answer. Instead, he helped Súndavar to his feet, and lead him to the stream, Eragon at his heels.

"_Draumr kopa_."

A roughly circular section of the stream swirled, turning black. A flicker of light shone in the middle, before expanding. The image that shimmered on the stream's surface made both Súndavar and Eragon feel weak.

"_Aberon_," Eragon whispered, too affected by the death and destruction he saw to say anything more. His tone was enough to portray his feelings.

"We have to go back," Súndavar said, almost begging. "Eragon, we have to help."

Oromis laid a hand on each of his apprentices' shoulders. "The battle is over. There is nothing more either of you can do. Leaving will put a dent in your instruction, no more."

Eragon sighed. Oromis was right. "Yes, Master." He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Súndavar wasn't so easily swayed. "What about Lexi? Lady Nasuada? King Orrin? How can we be sure they're safe?" There were tears in his eyes, and for the first time Eragon realized how much he had become attached to the Varden and it's members.

"Even if they aren't, there is nothing more you can do about it," Oromis said gently. "Come. Let us bathe. The dragons will be back soon, and we must be ready for them." He strode purposefully away.

Eragon helped Súndavar to his feet. "He's right, you know."

Súndavar pulled away with all the hatred he had previously harbored towards Eragon. "Get off, _Argetlam_. Nothing changes between us. You should have been there. Nasuada is your liege lady. You should have helped," he accused bitterly

"I could predict it no more than you could," Eragon defended. "Bickering about it will get us no where. What happened, happened. Let's move on."

"I don't want to," Súndavar hissed. Eragon huffed and turned on him.

Súndavar didn't join Oromis and Eragon. He didn't want to bathe with them. It would be like accepting that everything was okay, and that he could simply let go, move on. Instead, he stripped where he was. After washing himself quickly in the cold water, he robbed again. Only then did he join them.

Almost the instant Eragon and Oromis were dressed, the dragons landed. Súndavar had to marvel at the three of them, bold and brilliant. Slate stood proudly at Saphira's side, the sun glinting off his black scales.

"Go, now," Oromis bid them. "Today's lesson is finished."

Súndavar mounted Slate quickly, swinging himself onto the new, sculpted saddle Oromis had given him. The young dragon blinked at him hesitantly.

_Fly?_ he questioned, _Fly Shadow?_

_Yes, Slate. Fly._

Beating his wings, Slate rose into the sky again. He was silent for a moment. Then: _What is wrong with you, Shadow?_

Súndavar didn't know how to tell him. There were no words. Instead, he sent a picture. A picture of Aberon, as Oromis had scried it. His heart clenched painfully.

_Oh, little Shadow_.

_Look who's talking. You're half the size of Saphira_, Súndavar snapped, not enjoying being referred to as 'little'. Slate had matured since reaching Ellesméra, to a point where his talk was easier to understand, not so broken. He had grown, too, although he still wasn't quite as big as Saphira. But the more he changed, the more Súndavar felt himself growing annoyed with the dragon. Why couldn't he have just stayed as the cute little puppy dog that followed him everywhere?

_Don't remind me,_ Slate told him mournfully. _Saphira is wonderful._

Súndavar raised his eyebrows, even though Slate couldn't see his face. _Maybe…_

_She's so graceful. Her voice is kind and wonderful and her eyes burn with great inner fire. Her scales glitter like spelled water. She is beautiful._

_Perhaps. Why does it matter?_

Slate hesitated. He heaved a dragon sigh. _It…it doesn't. I'm being foolish._

_You aren't old enough to mate. Besides, Saphira is twice your age._

Slate didn't respond. Instead, he swerved, tipping upside-down and flying in a dizzying circle.

_Dammit, dragon!_ Súndavar yelped, clinging to his scales. _You'll be the death of me!_

Slate shorted smoke, continuing to beat his wings. _We land,_ he proclaimed, touching down outside their tree-home. Súndavar swung off his neck, starting towards the stairs. Slate didn't follow.

_Come on,_ Súndavar urged. _What are you, dippy?_

_Saphira promised to hunt with me,_ Slate sniffed. _I shall return._

With that, he flew away.

"Saphira this, Saphira that," Súndavar grumbled. "_Sooo graceful._" His voice was mocking and high.

_Don't be jealous,_ said a little voice in his head.

But he was.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Shay avoided the blow, sweat dripping from her hair. She thrust, then retreated a step, her feet pounding on the ground in a rhythm that she knew well. Her sword parried again, almost of its own will. She kicked out, but her foot met air. Vanir had moved too fast.

The fight had been going on for hours. The two combatants had settled into a sort of rhythm. _Backhand thrust, parry, overhand side…_

Over and over they repeated, going in circles. Dust coated Shay's pants, and her brow was furrowed in concentration.

Occasionally one or the other would throw in an extra slash. It was always met with an excellent parry.

"Not bad, Everwood," Vanir said, his face a mask.

Shay knew he coud tell she was tiring. She had never been able to hide her emotionsm which shone and danced in freely in her blue eyes. Yet Vanir seemed invincible. No matter what she tried, her sword seemed to be there a mment before.

"Does the _human_ need a break?" he asked mockingly.

Shay said nothing. He was trying to distract her, get her to concentrate on something besides their deadly dance. Besides, she wasn't speaking to him. She hadn't said a word since the night by the beach, even when he had asked her to spar.

Shay stepped up her offence, letting loose a wild succession of blows in an illogical, dangerous order, which left her chest and stomach fair game.

It was a series no swordsman in his right mind would attempt, a move breaking all the rules.

Vanir blocked each blow, but they were so random, he stumbled. Shay nicked his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He didn't cry out, but there was a spark of rage in his eyes. He attacked with renewed ferocity.

"_Weakling_!" he spat.

The insult didn't bother Shay. She _was_ weaker than Vanir, she knew that. But perhaps she was trickier as well.

She stopped attacking. Vanir hesitated a moment, unsure what she was doing. His sword arched for her throat – to be wrenched out of his hand by a surprise swipe. He roared in pain. Shay heard two fingers snap.

He kicked her in the chest, causing her blade to go flying. It came out of her hand just a bit too easily…Shay fell to her knees.

Vanir caught her sword, flicking it again towards her neck. An instant before the cold blade was pressed against her throat, Shay laid backwards. Vanir fumbled, surprised. Shay's feet shot out, tripping him and herself. They both went tumbling.

Vanir landed on top, Shay's thin form pressed beneath his. Her eyes glittered. Two of her fingers were pressed to his neck.

"_Dead._"

Vanir opened his mouth to protest, then glared at her, snapping it shut. He stood up, shooting furious glances at the elves who watched, before jogging off into the woods.

Shay picked herself up daintily, dusting dirt off her clothing.

"Shay!"

Eragon's voice echoed over the practice courts. Shay turned to him. From the expression on his face, there was no good news to be had.

"Eragon. What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's Aberon."

Shay's heart stopped beating for a moment as she read his meaning in his eyes. "Orrin?"

"I don't know."

She turned away from him. "I have to go."

He caught her arm. "Shay, be reasonable. The battle is over, and there is nothing we can do."

"You're just saying that because that's what Oromis told you."

"Perhaps. But it's true."

Shay felt tears welling in her eyes. _Aberon…_her home, for three years. She pushed the tears down. Captains didn't cry. Neither did former captains.

"Come on," she said, grabbing Eragon's arm. "We've got to talk to Islanzadí."

**Author's Note: Hey guys. You know what? I'm going on another vacation. _Joy_ (rolls eyes) I'm moving soon, and my dad wants to go on vaca before the big move. Soooo…I'll see you all next week sometime.**


	19. Roots in the Sky

"_Wyrda!_"

Blagden ruffled his feathers, giving a loud caw.

"_Roots in the ground,_

_Go far down,_

_Roots in the sky,_

_Go up high!_"

Islandzadí threw him a look, before turning her gaze to her audience. "It seems we have a problem, then."

Eragon nodded. "Yes, your highness."

"What do you propose we do, Argetlam?"

Súndavar stepped in. "I request leave, Islanzadí, your highness," he begged, "We have to go back."

She eyed him coolly. "Oromis must have told you such would do nothing to right the wrongs already committed."

"Yes, your highness. But—"

Arya silenced him. "I believe that by going to Aberon, we may be walking into a trap."

"Trap set for what reason?" Shay protested. "If Galbatorix wanted Súndavar and Eragon, he could have come here."

"We cannot assume anything. Give proof it was Galbatorix, Captain."

"Just Shay, your majesty. As for proof, who else could gather such a force? Aberon is not a small city, and with the Varden enforcing them, a fight with a small army would be dealt with in short time. The attack could come from no one than Galbatorix himself."

"Well said, Shay. Assume for a moment that Galbatorix _did _stage this attack on Surda's capital. If so, he must have had reasons. Why?"

"I still believe it is a trap," Arya said.

"A distraction, perhaps?" Eragon offered. "While we turn our attention to Surda, perhaps he is planning another attack. Say, on Ellesméra."

"He wouldn't dare!" Islanzadí cried with a shake of her head. "Too many attacks, and he has no more men. Elves are stronger than humans. An attack here would only lead to death and defeat."

"Perhaps Galbatorix wants to lure the Riders from Ellesméra, then attack them upon reaching Aberon," Arya suggested.

"If he's planning something, then all we need to do is kill him," Súndavar shot. "I bet Eragon and I could do it."

"Don't make wagers you can't keep," Islanzadí counseled.

"He's right, though," Eragon muttered. "Galbatorix's death would end this."

Shay bit her lip thoughtfully. "He wouldn't suspect you to come at him directly. He would predict a return to Aberon, so we cannot do that. But an assassination attempt…it might take him by surprise."

Vanir snorted. "Galbatorix is never surprised."

"Hold your tongues!" Islanzadí snapped at them. "This is crazy. Going against Galbatorix would take planning. You cannot act on an impulse."

"What if we sent in one or two people?" Eragon mused. "Say, Súndavar and I? It would be easier to go undetected, the less who accompany us."

"Going against him yourself would be like going weaponless against a thousand swords."

_Weaponless…_

Eragon held up a hand for silence.

_Weaponless…_

**_When the time comes and you need a weapon, look under the roots of the Menoa Tree_…**

Solembum's words rang in his mind.

Arya seemed to come to the same conclusion. "Eragon, there is no—"

"Wait…"

"_Wyrda!"_ crowed Blagden.

It didn't make sense…there _was_ no weapon under the roots of the Menoa Tree. There were no legends about a sword buried there, no lore or stories to guide him. Eragon felt swamped. But he knew in his heart, _this_ was the time. _The time had come._

Time to kill Galbatorix. Time to avenge Aberon and all those who died there.

Wait.

Now was the time he needed a weapon…perhaps now was not the time to act. Acting on impulse…that lead to death.

But he had a weapon. He had his sword, which remained nameless at his side. Somehow, he felt the werecat's words had a deeper meaning. The foretold weapon was more than a sword, he felt. It _had _to be. A simple sword would not bring down Galbatorix.

"_Flesh and blood,_

_Makes the fall,_

_Dark King's Death,_

_Joy to all!"_

With lightning fast reflexes, Súndavar snatched Blagden from the air. "Shut it, bird!" he hissed at him. He tossed the white raven in Slate's general direction.

Giving an evil grin, Slate snapped at the bird. Blagden cawed in protest to the unfair treatment.

_Flesh and Blood…_

_Dark King…_

Eragon knew there should be a connection here…somewhere. He could feel it. Between the weapon, and the riddles, and…

_Dark King…Galbatorix!_

And the Flesh and Blood…

_No._ Eragon felt his heart beat faster. _It couldn't be_. A bittersweet joy welled in his chest. _Rune._

_Flesh and blood…_

_Makes the fall…_

Rune? Fall?

Eragon searched deeper. He knew there had to be something he was missing…something…Rune was sleeping. She couldn't cause Galbatorix's fall…

"_Roots and boughs,_

_Who can know,_

_Which is which,_

_Or how they grow?"_

More riddles…Eragon didn't want riddles. He wanted answers…

Roots…boughs…

His head was spinning, but Eragon clung to the thought.

_Roots in the ground,_

_Go far down,_

_Roots in the sky,_

_Go up high!_

Things started to snap into place. _Rune_ slept beneath the branches of the Menoa Tree. The branches. The _boughs_. The _roots in the sky_.

_**When the time comes…need of a weapon…**_

_Rune._

**Ancient Language: (forgot in last chapter)**

**Finiarel: horrific for young man of great promise**

**Briswir du adurna: warm the water**

**Draumr kopa: dream stare**

**Ebrithil: Master**

**Author's Note: Briswir is not an 'actual' word in the Ancient Language. I came up with it. I tried to make it as realistic as possible, by taking the only word close to 'warm' –- brisingr : fire –- and modifying it. Since some words appear similar in the Ancient Language and in English (ex. heill – heal, thrysta – thrust, stenr – stone) I added 'wir' to the word, since it's sorta like 'warm'. Hope this didn't bother anyone. I was going to put 'brisingr du adurna' but I figured that that wording would make it far too hot, and then Súndavar would hate Eragon even more, for scorching him. :D Hearts, Kittie**


	20. The Time Has Come

Murtagh felt his heart beating faster in his chest. "Lily? Is she okay?"

Galbatorix shrugged. "Last I checked she was approaching Du Weldenvarden. Why do you ask?"

Shaking his head, abashed, Murtagh looked at the ground. "No reason, sir."

"Ah. Developed an attachment to our little assassin, have we?"

Murtagh looked away. "I miss Rune," he muttered. It was true. He missed the bright, sunny girl very much. But…perhaps not as much as he might once have. He remembered how her lips had felt against his, in that goodbye kiss she had graced him. Once he had drawn strength from that memory…now it held none.

He tried to recall her face to mind. To his horror, his mental picture was blurry. As if she was a half-forgotten memory, no more.

"Is…is Rune with the Varden, your highness?"

Galbatorix smiled cruelly. "To my knowledge she is with Eragon. In Ellesméra."

Murtagh's heart sank to his boots. _Lily was heading to Ellesméra._ **_No!_**

_Rune…_

_Lily…_

Did it matter anymore? Both would be dead…

"I'm afraid Lily won't reach Ellesméra for quite some time," Galbatorix was muttering. "The foolish girl…"

_Some time? Good._

That suited Murtagh just fine.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

_You want me to **what!**_

Thorn was staring at his Rider incredulously, his golden eyes wide. _Murtagh, that's crazy._

_You're a dragon,_ Murtagh pleaded, _Galbatorix can't stop you._

_But **Murtagh**_Thorn counseled. _That's insane. I couldn't._

_Of course you could. Please? For me?_

Thorn snorted, as if going _for Murtagh_ wasn't much of a motivation. _You overestimate your worth to me._

Murtagh laughed. _If you won't do it for me, what about Rune?_

Thorn blinked. _I miss Rune._

_I do too. Will you do it for her?_

_Very well._ Thorn heaved a dragon sigh. _I'll do it. For Rune, mind you._

_Heaven forbid I think you're doing it for me_, Murtagh teased.

_I'll leave tonight, then_, Thorn grumbled.

He was not happy about this. Not happy at all.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Eragon brushed the hair away from Rune's face gently, squeezing her hands in his. She looked as if she had merely settled down to take a nap. The Menoa Tree swayed with interest.

_What was going to happen?_ she seemed to ask.

"It is time, Rune," Eragon whispered. "I need a weapon."

He wasn't sure what he expected to happen, but _something _would have been nice. Rune gave no response to confirm she had heard.

Eragon tightened his grip on her hands. "Please, Rune. I need you now."

Still she didn't respond. Eragon felt his heart sinking, his hope evaporating. He had been so _sure_.

He was missing something. He had to be. She had to awaken. _Had to_.

Part of him was ready to scream.

_Deal with it, Eragon!_ he cried to himself. _She's dead._

Dead.

He had killed her. His own stupid incompetence had assured that she would never take another breath.

She would never awaken.

"The time has come," he whispered. "What a joke."

He felt the tears begin to fall, lightly at first, then a storm of them. _Murderer_. He should have been able to do it. He should have. What was it that the Dream Rune had said?

_You are weak. Súndavar could have done it._

He wiped his tears away with his sleeve. It was stupid to cry. He could do nothing.

_Nothing._

Try as he might to hold it back, a single tear slid down his cheek. It splattered on Rune's face, a drop of fear, uncertainty, imperfection. Eragon ignored it.

"I should have tried harder," he whispered. "_I'm so sorry_." He squeezed her hands tighter in what he thought was a final goodbye.

She squeezed back.

_Don't be._

Her lips didn't move, but her voice in Eragon's ears was clear. Disbelief, then joy, blossomed in his chest.

He touched her shoulder. "Rune?"

_Eragon?_

Her eyes flitted open. Green eyes. As brilliant as he had remembered. There were tears in them. A smile touched her lips, then disappeared.

Eragon was overwhelmed. He had done it! _Rune_! He stood up, bring her to her feet. She wobbled there was a moment, like a baby learning to walk, then collapsed against him.

"You're weak," Eragon spoke softly to her. He wanted to hold her, protect her. She was back. Nothing would make him lose her again.

She closed her eyes, her head against his chest. She said nothing, but her feelings blossomed in Eragon's mind openly, bursts of gentle blue and vivid green.

He placed one finger under her chin, angling her face up to meet his. Gently, ever so slowly, he pressed his lips to hers.

She kissed back weakly, too far gone to care or think.

_I missed you_, Eragon's lips told her. _Don't leave me again_.

She didn't respond. Instead, she clasped her hands around his neck, pulling him deeper. His fingers tangled in her hair. The feel of his body sparked something in her, some inner strength. She kissed him harder, pressing herself against him more, leaning into the feel of fire.

It was Rune who pulled out first. Her green eyes met his for a moment, before she closed them. Her arms slipped from his neck, to his waist. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. He kissed her forehead softly, loving the feeling of her skin.

She smiled faintly again. There were no words for her to say, but her pleasure made blotches in his mind, clear and blurry at the same time. Her head fell against his chest limply.

Eragon picked her up. She fell asleep in his arms, curling into him like a cat. This sleep held no fear in Eragon's heart. _She was back._ Rune.

Eragon Shadeslayer left, Rune held close.

_Rune._

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Arya watched Eragon and Rune with even eyes. There was a spark of joy in her heart. Rune was awake again. Things could return to normal.

But that kiss…

She should have been happy. Perhaps Eragon would forget his silly infatuation with her. Perhaps he would be content to be friends, without the endless, pathetic come-ons he plagued her with now.

Yes, the princess of Ellesméra _should_ have been happy.

But she wasn't.


	21. Life Isn't Fair

Súndavar slammed his fist into the wall, then cursed as pain seared into his knuckles.

He flopped on the bed forlornly. He should have been happy. Rune was awake. Everything would be perfect. He could hold her and tell her everything. He would apologize to her for breaking his promise and having feelings towards Lexia, and she would forgive him. They would be happy.

Except…

She had kissed Eragon.

_It wasn't fair!_

Rune was his. He had met her first. They had watched each other's backs, kept each other safe before Eragon had even come into the picture. He had slept at her side before she had even heard Eragon's voice.

_That…that betraying, double-crossing, cheating…whore!_ he screamed in his mind. That was all she was. Not special. Just a stupid girl. Girls were just a distraction anyways. He didn't have time for them, now that he was a Rider

_Don't be mad at her,_ Slate begged.

"How can't I?" Súndavar growled. "She…she _kissed_ him! You saw her, just the same as I did!"

_Eragon moved first._

"But she let him! She…"

_Ugh_! This wasn't fair. Not at all.

"I hate her," he hissed. "I hate her."

He grabbed the dagger out from under his pillow again. If Rune didn't want him, he didn't care. It didn't matter.

Slate's eyes widened. _No, Súndavar. Don't._

_Slate never called him Súndavar_.

"Why? You don't care. All you care about is Saphira."

_That's not true._

"It is. You spend all your time with her. It's always, _Saphira this, _or _Saphira that._"

_No it isn't. I care for you. We are one._

"Whatever." Súndavar ignored the dragon's protests. He placed the dagger over his wrist, making a clean, swift cut. The pain stung him. But it felt good. It gave him a release. He could lose himself in it. There was no Rune, no Eragon or Shay or Arya. Not even Slate. Just himself, and the pain.

The cut healed, leaving a thin, spidery scar. Slate snatched the dagger from him with a claw. _No._

Súndavar met his eyes bitterly, before turning away. The dagger broke in two under Slate's ivory claw.

_I'm worried about you, Shadow._

"Worry about someone else."

Rage flared in Slate's eyes. _You are my Rider, I your dragon!_ A burst of pain came over their connection, Slate's anger personified. _You shall stop this!_

Súndavar said nothing. He turned over. "I'm going to sleep."

_No more stunts. Do it again and I'm telling Oromis._

"You wouldn't dare!"

_I would. And I'd tell Eragon too._

Súndavar bit back a remark, pulling the blankets over his head. "Leave me alone."

_You are never alone. I am here._

"Yeah? Well go away."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Rune glanced wildly around her, her heart beating fast in her chest. The trees reached out their scraggly limbs, clawing at her dress and her hair like they were alive. She screamed, trying to escape their thorny embrace._

_**Eragon!**_

_But the Rider couldn't save her this time. Her shoe got caught in mud. She abandoned it, ducking under and around branches. _

_She had to get away._

_What was she running from? She wasn't sure. This enemy was only in her mind. In the end, she knew it would catch her._

_Suddenly the trees cleared. She was in a dark emptiness._

_**Rune…**_

_Something called her name. She tried to scream, but nothing came._

_Yellow eyes stared at her._

_Dragon eyes._

_**Rune,** they said. **Rune, Rune, Rune…**_

_Rune pulled away. She found herself falling, falling into darkness. Her green eyes were wide with fright, but there was nothing to see. The darkness was complete._

_**Rune…**_

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune screamed, shooting out of the linens that were folded gently around her body. For a moment she thought the darkness from her dream had followed her.

_No_…she calmed herself. _It was night. That's it. It was night. Everything was fine._

Beside her, Eragon stirred. Her eyes began to adjust. It wasn't so dark anymore. The moon shone in the window, and the night sky was navy, rather than black. She calmed her racing heart.

Eragon blinked groggily up at her. _Rune? Are you alright?_

Rune sent a rainbow of affirmative colors into his mind and tried to settle in next to him again, but she couldn't find a comfortable position. She slipped out of bed.

_Rune, where are you going?_

Rune shook her head. _Nowhere, Eragon,_ she told him with her mind. She staggered against the bedpost for a moment, then grabbed her boots. Slipping into them, she shot Eragon a smile. _Fresh air, that's all. I'll be back soon._

Eragon rolled over, content to go back to sleep. Rune left the room silently, leaning heavily on the wall all the way down the stairs. Her muscles ached by the time she reached the ground, but she was determined to carry on. The only way to get stronger was to push herself.

She glanced back at the stairs, thinking of Eragon, sleeping in his bed. She smiled softly, remembering the way she had awoken with him at her side, earlier that evening. They had talked in each other's heads for hours. Even so, he had changed. Rune could tell that nothing would ever be the same. Things would never return quite to 'normal'.

But…what was _normal_?

Normal…the very word scared Rune. It seemed so planned, set it stone. Normal was an illusion. There was no normal.

_Get a grip_, she told herself. Her mind was seriously wandering.

Perhaps it was a good thing. It kept her from thinking about the burning of her muscles.

She walked a few more paces, before pausing to lean on a tree.

Behind her, a twig cracked.

Rune spun. "Who's there?" she managed. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, but the words came out steadily.

A steady, yellow gaze met her own. Rune gasped, stumbling and falling on her butt. Her eyes widened. _They were the eyes from her dream_…

_Rune._

A dragon's voice. She felt a sucking at the air, heard a snuffling noise, as if the dragon was sniffing her.

_You are Rune._

She was too dumbstruck to speak. She had been sure…there was only three dragons alive. Saphira, Thorn, and mighty Shruikan. But this voice was none of them. It was husky, but young.

The dragon arched his head into the shaft of moonlight. He nudged at her stomach. _You live! You aren't sleeping!_

He was large, nearly Saphira's size. The long, thin scales that overlapped like armor on his neck and belly were emerald green, while the rest of his scales were black. A trickle of black smoke snaked from his nostrils. He nudged her back to her feet gently.

_Shadow will be so happy._

Shadow…the little shadow boy. Son of Not There Man. The one with the scar, from her dream memory. Her mind made the connection quickly, almost before she could register the name.

"Súndavar…" the name left her lips, unbidden.

Who was Súndavar? She…couldn't…remember…

_Slate!_

A new voice. Her memory sparked when she heard it in her head. From the darkness, a boy materialized.

He took one look at her, then turned away, ready to stride back into the depths beyond the moonlight.

"Wait! Súndavar?"

"What do you want?" his voice was accusing, hard.

"You are Súndavar, aren't you?"

"Great. Now you don't even remember me. Suppose that's for the best, eh'?"

Rune stepped back, stung. "I…I don't know what you are talking about."

"I'm talking about you and Eragon."

"Me?" Rune looked at the ground thoughtfully. "And Eragon?" Why would he have anything against her and Eragon? She couldn't remember…

"Yeah. And about that kiss."

"Kiss?" Rune paused. "Oh. That one."

"Oh, are there more I should know about?" his voice was spiteful, as if he hated her.

"Don't be mad at me," she said softly, pulling away. She didn't like his anger. It made her feel strange, guilty. Had she done something wrong?

"You _kissed_ him," Súndavar accused. "And you're asking me not to be mad? That's _low_."

Rune's mouth fell open. "I don't understand."

"It's not fair," he grumbled. "You slept beside me, don't you remember? I knew you before Eragon."

"Life isn't fair," she whispered. He had no right to be angry at her. What did he know anyways? And what was the big deal about Eragon kissing her? Why did it mean anything to him?

"It should be. Why don't you remember?"

She shook out her hair, stepping dangerously close to him. Lightning fast, she kissed him. Instead of her body feeling soft, she was rigid. She pulled away before Súndavar could do anything.

"Now you're even with Eragon," she spit. "Fair enough?"

She strode away with a strength she didn't feel. Who did he think he was? He couldn't just show up and tell her how to live.

But…somewhere inside her, there was a voice. Her own voice.

_Don't be mad at him_, it called. _He's hurt. And he's right._

Rune didn't know what the voice in her head was. Her conscience, perhaps? She shrugged it off.

_Wait._

_Súndavar…the boy with the scar…Copper Girl…Cithrí…the snake charm…"Owe you this…gave it to me…"…the slave boy…Raz'ac…"Never take another…I promise"…promise…promise…_

Memories flashed in front of her eyes, startling her.

_Súndavar!_

She turned back to apologize.

But Súndavar and the dragon were gone.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Exactly where are you going?_

Thorn glanced behind him in surprise.

Shruikan clicked his claws on the marble floor, fixing his eyes on Thorn's. _We have much to discuss._

_**MURTAGH!**_

That Rider…

_He was going to get it._

It had been his stupid idea in the first place.

Sullenly, Thorn followed Shruikan without a word.


	22. Guest of the Queen

**Author's Note: This one's to Kya, for making me laugh with her comment about "a long nap inside some one else's body" and to Coffee Grounds for calling Súndavar emo...Hearts, Kittie**

Rune stood at nervous attention, watching the queen with wide green eyes. Eragon squeezed her shoulder. "Don't be nervous," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded slightly, leaning against Eragon for support.

"Come forward, Argetlam," Islanzadí beckoned. "What have you brought?"

Eragon stepped forward, helping Rune along. The girl blinked at Islanzadí for a moment, before kneeling.

"And who might you be?" Islanzadí asked, a chuckle in her voice, "Other than the girl who slept beneath the Menoa Tree and stole the hearts of both our resident Riders."

Eragon turned pink, but said nothing, so as not to be disrespectful.

"Princess Rune of Urû'baen, your majesty," Rune answered with more confidence than she felt. "From Galbatorix, through Lycona."

Islanzadí's eyes flickered for a moment. She blinked, then leaned down. She took Rune's hand in her own pale, elegant one. "Rise, daughter."

Rune looked up at her, then got to her feet. She stared at her booted feet, unsure what to do.

The queen touched her cheek gently, then drew away. There was a sad smile on her face when Rune had the courage to meet her eyes. "You look like your mother."

"I do?" Rune seemed genuinely pleased with this fact. "I…I never knew her."

"I see. Your father is…"

"Galbatorix, yes. But don't worry, she didn't betray you. He…"

"I understand."

Eragon slipped away, feeling the need to leave them alone. Islanzadí's expression was as if she had discovered a lost child after years of thinking she was dead -- a mixture of sadness, joy, and gentle curiosity.

"What was she like?" Rune asked suddenly. "She died when I was a baby. Of a broken heart, I suppose."

Islanzadí laid a hand on her shoulder. "You can be proud to call her your mother, Rune."

Rune nodded. "Thank you."

"I'll have a room arranged for you in Tialdarí Hall. Unless you prefer to…"

Rune shook her head quickly. "No, I'd like my own room, if it pleases you, your majesty." She didn't say why, but she was sure it showed on her face.

She was sick of guys. Eragon, Súndavar, the Murtagh man from her dream memory…they were all a big jumble. She was perfectly content to sleep on her own.

"Men can be tiresome, can't they?"

"Yes," Rune affirmed. "They can indeed."

ooooooooooooooooooooo

"You can do it, Rune," Shay urged, "Parry!"

Rune brought her sword up slowly, breathing hard. Shay touched her throat gently with her blade.

Rune tossed her sword aside. "Shay, I can't do it. I'm tired."

"Come on," encouraged Shay with an understanding smile. "You're getting stronger, I can tell. But you have to keep it up."

Rune nodded, retrieving her sword. She sighed. "Shay, I'm trying. But it's hard."

"We'll go slowly. I'll call the moves for you to make, alright?"

Rune bit her lip, before giving a single, determined nod. "Alright."

"Get in position," Shay instructed. Rune took her stance, feet apart, both hands on her sword hilt. Her muscles ached. Two months of inactivity took a toll on even the fittest body. She'd lost weight too, but it didn't matter much.

Shay attacked slowly, as promised, calling out each thrust and step. Rune often stumbled, but she made it another half hour before collapsing from exhaustion.

Shay picked the other girl up, feeling with surprise how light she was. It wasn't really a surprise, she hadn't eaten in two months – the magic origin of her sleep assured she didn't need to – but surely it wasn't healthy to be _so_ thin.

Dropping the girl off in Tialdarí Hall, Shay began to wander pointlessly around Ellesméra. Secretly she was hoping she would run into Vanir, but she wouldn't admit it to anyone. Heck, she wouldn't even admit it to herself.

Shay felt _Thornessa_, her sword, at her side, remembering her spar with Vanir. Her face broke into a grin. It always gave her a pleasure to think of her past triumphs, and beating Vanir was certainly one of them. He had to get over himself.

"Lost, Everwood?"

Shay turned, groaning inwardly. Vanir was leaning nonchalantly against a tree, looking as if he despised her as much as ever. But Shay noticed the way his eyes flicked over her body before resting on her face. She had been getting looks like that from Varden guys since she Rune's age. But she hadn't expected it from Vanir.

"I saw you practicing with the little girl on the courts," he scoffed. "Taken a sudden liking to children, have you?"

Shay smiled slightly. "Princess Rune is a guest of Islanzadí and daughter of Mistress Lycona."

Vanir paled. He opened his mouth for a moment, then shut it, something that was becoming increasingly common for him.

"You look like a fish when you do that," Shay told him.

He frowned, then shrugged, a nearly microscopic smile flickering over his lips, then disappearing so fast Shay almost thought she imagined it.

"So…"

"Actually, as much _fun_ as I've had wasting my time talking," Vanir said, "I have things to do. So I'll see you around, Everwood."

He turned and walked away. Shay laughed silently. He was so full of it. He had absolutely nothing to do. If he had, why would he have been leaning against a tree? But she let it go. Vanir may have given the impression of being unreachable, solemn, but she was sure that deep down somewhere there was as much emotion as anyone. He was just afraid to show it.

_Men,_ Shay thought, s_uch babies._

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar felt the pain sting his wrist. It hurt. But it was wonderful. His heart sang, enveloped by the pain.

He didn't want it all to end anymore. The pain was enough. He could forget everything, drenched in its scarlet embrace.

Slate would be mad. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Just the sweet, brilliant pain in his wrist.

Súndavar smiled.

When the pain stopped, he slept.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Shruikan clicked his claws. _It is time Thorn began his training,_ the big dragon said, _He has grown soft, living the castle._

Galbatorix didn't look at him. "Do as you wish."

_He is bound to Uru'baen. I wish to take him out of the city._

Galbatorix cracked his knuckles. "Very well."

_What of his bonds to you? They may get in the way._

"I am busy, dragon," Galbatorix said testily. "You are in charge of him. Teach him as you see fit. I don't want to be bothered with this issue again."

Shruikan nodded solemnly. _Of course not._


	23. Enchanted Mirrors

Weeks passed quickly in Ellesméra. Time seemed to flow and sway like the trees in the wind, never staying put, sometimes going fast, others dragging by.

Súndavar had avoided Rune almost entirely. There was an occasional chance meeting around the city, which always ended in hurtful stares and awkward silences.

Slate continued to grow, until he equaled Saphira in size and weight. The female dragon had to admit, he was impressive. His wings were tough, and his scales shone in the sun brilliantly. Yet, he still hadn't managed to summon a flame. Glaedr said it would take time, but Slate was growing impatient. Saphira could do it. He was nearly as old as she was when she first flamed.

When the dragon asked his Rider about it, Súndavar seemed distant, cold. He was often absent for hours at a time. Each day he seemed farther away. Secretly, Rune was worried. But she would never admit that.

Rune had kept her distance from both Riders since that night with Súndavar in the moonlight. She could tell it hurt Eragon, but she was determined not to make any stupid moves again.

The day was windy when Rune knocked softly on Súndavar's door. She had gathered her courage to face him.

"What?"

"It's me."

"Oh. Go away."

Rune bit her lip. "May I come in?"

"If I say no, you'll do it anyway."

The girl took this as a yes. She opened the door quietly, slipping in. He looked up at her from his place on the bed, then away. Rune sat down next to him. "Súndavar, can we talk?"

"About what?"

"You. Me. I don't know. Just talk, I guess. Like we used to."

Súndavar snorted. "So you remember now?" he asked, sarcasm thick in his voice.

Rune got up to leave. "You don't have to be mean."

He pulled her back down. "No, stay. Sorry."

She glanced at him, then down at his wrist. She grabbed it, and he winced. "Súndavar, what's this?"

He pulled away, hiding the offending appendage behind his back. "Nothing. Cat scratch, that's all."

She sat down again. "I find that hard to believe. Unless you've been playing clapping games with Quickpaw, that is?"

He looked away in a mixture of shame and anger. "It's nothing, okay? You wouldn't understand."

"I could try."

"Leave me alone."

Rune touched his shoulder gently. "Súndavar, I want to help."

"Go help your lover! Eragon needs you more than I do!" he spun, striking her in the jaw.

She grimaced, her head snapping back. Tears formed in her eyes, but they didn't fall. "Eragon isn't my lover," she whispered.

His eyes widened. He…had hit her. As angry as he might have been, that was going too far. "I…I'm sorry….I didn't mean it…Rune, I…"

Her eyes were flat, emotionless. "I think I'm leaving now."

He caught her arm. "Rune, wait. I'm sorry."

She turned back. "I've been hit once in my life," she told him softly. Her voice was shaky. "And that was by my father. _I was four years old_, Súndavar."

Súndavar remained silent. He didn't know what to say.

"You're as bad as him," she told him. Her voice wasn't gentle, but it was quiet, as if it would break her world to speak in more of a whisper. There was disbelief in its chords, as though her heart was breaking in two and all the while she could do nothing about it.

"My father…"

"Don't use that excuse. Think of who _my_ father was."

Súndavar hung his head. "I know."

Rune opened the door to leave. Her eyes met his for a moment, then flicked away.

When she had shut the door, Súndavar sat down on his bed and sobbed.

_I hate you_, he called to his father. _Wherever you are, I hate you_.

Some sort of urge made Súndavar grope for the new dagger under his pillow. He could make it go away. He could fill the empty place in his heart that Rune had left.

Ever so slowly, relishing every second of relief, he made another cut.

oooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune was crying on her bed when Eragon came in. Her shoulders shuddered, and her hair fell on her back, torn from its braids. He touched her back gently, but said nothing.

"He hit me," she breathed. She was shivering.

Eragon brought her into his arms. She shook, her body racked by sobs. Eragon wasn't sure what to do. He stroked her hair gently, rocking her slowly. Softly, in a voice no louder than a whisper, he crooned a song:

"_There is a ballad in Carvahall,_ _that heals the wounded soul_

_There is a ballad in Carvahall, that makes the hurting whole_

_There is a ballad in Carvahall, that stops the worried sighs_

_There is a ballad in Carvahall, that mends the pained one's cries…"_

Rune stopped shaking. "_Where did you hear that?_"

Eragon opened his mouth to reply, then shook his head. "I don't know."

She buried her face deeper in his chest, like a kitten searching for warmth. "_Murtagh sung that song," _she murmured absently, "_Before…_"

"Murtagh?"

She nodded. "The Murtagh man from my dream memory…" She closed her eyes.

He kissed her forehead softly. They sat in silence.

"Eragon, may I ask you something?" she murmured finally.

"Anything."

"Who was the woman? With the kind eyes?"

"What?"

"The woman," Rune's voice was wistful. "She stood by the hearth, kneading dough. Her voice was soft but powerful. There were two boys…they played with sticks and called them swords…a man worked in the fields…"

Eragon wasn't following. But Rune just kept on talking, lost in a memory that wasn't her own.

"The boys grew older…the woman didn't stand by the heart anymore…One of them, the younger one…he planted things. He talked to his plants, as if they were people…"

Eragon knew what she was talking about now. Some sort of unexplainable dread closed around his chest. "The woman? That was Marian. And the man in the fields was Garrow. The boys with the swords…one was Roran." He stopped.

"Who were they?" she asked innocently, looking for all the world like a helpless, curious child. Her eyes were still closed, but she had shifted position on his lap, so she was sitting sideways, his arms around her waist.

"They…they were my family."

"What happened to them?"

_You're asking too many questions_, he said, not wanting to reprimand her out loud.

She sent an array of apologetic blues back to him, then smiled and kissed him softly on the ridge of his jaw.

Eragon loved the feeling of her colors in his mind. He loved the way her head was open to him, like a lake he could just dive into without a care. The connection had come from her sleep within him, that he was sure of. It was one of the only benefits of losing her for what seemed like forever.

_Eragon!_

Saphira's voice.

He looked up, jerking to attention although the dragon couldn't see him. _Yes?_

Rune opened her eyes. _What's wrong, Saphira?_

For a moment Eragon was surprised at her recognition that Saphira had spoken. He shrugged it off. He could hide nothing from her, it seemed. If Saphira talked to him, apparently Rune could hear it as well. _Which wasn't entirely for the best_…

_Islanzadí is receiving word from Aberon. Trianna has made contact, and Nasuada wants to talk to you._

_Talk?_

They were so far away…how could they talk to each other?

_Enchanted mirrors,_ Rune answered his unspoken question. _My father had them. I broke one once. It shattered and cut my hands._

Eragon picked her up and placed her on the ground, before getting off the bed.

_Tell them I'm coming._

_Bring Rune as well. Súndavar is already here, along with Shay and Arya. They'll say nothing until you arrive._

_Very well._

He squeezed Rune's hand encouragingly, heading out the door. She padded quietly at his heels, barefoot.

Shay was rocking nervously back and forth. She shot Eragon a glance, and he saw the fear in her eyes. She may not have been under King Orrin anymore, but if was obvious she still felt it her duty to protect him. If anything had happened…

A small group was huddled in front of the large mirror. Both Trianna and Nasuada's images were etched on it.

"Eragon!" Nasuada cried when he came into sight. Her face was sad but determined. "You don't know how good it is to see you. You were sorely missed."

"Oromis scried Aberon, my lady. We know about what happened."

But from Rune's shocked, terrified expression, she didn't. "_Was it my father?_" she guessed, emerald eyes wide in shock.

Nasuada didn't respond to her question. "_Rune?_"

"It is she," Arya replied. "Her soul is free and she awakens from death."

Islanzadí shushed them with a hand. "Pleasantries aside, I assume Trianna is tiring from maintaining this connection. If we could hurry our conversation along, I am sure she would appreciate it."

"Thank you, your highness," Trianna mumbled, her forehead creased in concentration.

"What is Aberon's status?" questioned Shay? "Casualties?"

Nasuada nodded solemnly. "Orrin is safe, if that is whose life you ask about. But there were deaths."

Súndavar stepped in front of the mirror. "What about Lexi?" he asked. "The blind warrior girl with blonde hair?"

Nasuada blinked slowly and shook her head. Her eyes told Súndavar everything he needed to know. "I'm sorry…"

With a strangled cry of rage and pain, he shoved his way out of the group. Rune reached out for his shoulder, but he pushed her off.

"I suppose it's no consolation to him that she died a hero," Nasuada said softly. At the shake of Shay's head, she nodded. "I thought not."

Saphira shared a look with Slate, who was settled at her side. _Shouldn't you comfort him?_ she asked. _You are part of his heart._

_I can do nothing,_ the dragon confided to her sadly. _His relief comes not from me, but from a blade. The slits he makes give him more escape than I can offer. I try, but I am not good enough for him._

Saphira's eyes widened, and she nuzzled him softly, feeling terrible for the younger dragon. She wasn't sure what she would do if Eragon brushed her off like that. And the alternative…she couldn't imagine what would make Súndavar act in such a way. _Oh, Slate,_ she whispered. _I'm so sorry._

_It isn't your fault, it's mine. I've failed him, and shamed the bond of all Riders with their dragons._

_Don't blame yourself,_ Saphira snapped. _You have done nothing wrong. It isn't your fault he doesn't want help._

Slate laid his head on his paws, while Saphira touched his side tenderly with her snout. She could feel his sadness in her head in that way dragon's have with one another, and it made her sad too.

The dragon's words were private. Not even Eragon heard them being spoken. Which was probably for the best.

"What of Angela?" he asked, unaware of the exchange between them.

"She took care of the children – Elva included – during the attack. She is well. Restoration of the castle walls is coming along well, also."

Rune frowned softly. "Roran and Katrina?"

"Katrina's child is due in a month. A girl, according to Angela. I'm not well informed, so I can't say more. But they give you all their love."

"My lady, I can't hold it much longer," Trianna hissed between clenched teeth.

"Very well. I'm afraid we have to say goodbye."

"I'll return as soon as I can," Eragon promised. "Wherever you go, may your journey be safe."

Nasuada opened her mouth to respond, but the mirror went blank, the image on it swirling into oblivion.

Rune looked at Eragon, then in the direction Súndavar had run. _You should have told me Aberon had been attacked by my father,_ she accused gently.

Eragon felt a tiny bit guilty. _You're right. I should have._

Rune stared in Súndavar's wake, a sad soft of softness in her eyes. _He hit me,_ she said, but the excuse felt pathetic to her. _I don't have to comfort him._

Eragon wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a little half hug. _Do what you think is right._

She sighed, and looked at him pleadingly, as if beginning for a reason so excuse her from the unhappy task. His eyes held no answer.

"Very well," she said aloud, when she realized everyone was looking at her. "I'll go talk to him."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Galbatorix has released you of your bond,_ Shruikan told Thorn. _You are now bound to me. I am going to take charge of your education. It is time you learned the ways of being a dragon._

Thorn said nothing, unsure if that was a good thing or not.

_We are going hunting,_ Shruikan continued. _I'll explain once we're out of the city._

Thorn nodded respectfully.

_Murtagh,_ he grumbled inwardly. _You better **really** appreciate this._


	24. Stay All Night

**Author's Note: I was going over all of my reviews the other day...to this end, this chapter is dedicated to my first reveiwer of this series: lozers r us! She gave me my first review in Daughter of Earth and Sky. Hearts to you, Kittie**

Rune opened Sundavar's door slowly, not wanting to risk being turned away if she knocked. She peeked around the doorway, holding her breath.

The sight that met her made her feel sick. The blood on Súndavar's wrist made her veins turn to ice, and her stomach froze. She gasped a tiny bit.

He noticed her and looked up. Surprise, then rage, then sadness crossed his features. Rune stepped fully into the room, shrinking against the door. "Please stop," she whispered, fearful. "You're hurting yourself."

Súndavar tossed the dagger on the bed. "What do you want?" there was a tired, wasted sorrow in his voice that made him sound old, spent.

She walked cautiously across the room and sat on the bed next to him, eyes locked on his wrist.

"You knew already. Why the surprise?" he asked, somewhat bitterly.

Rune shook her head in wonderment, voice frozen in her throat. _I didn't see the blood. Súndavar, this is wrong._

He shook his head. "It feels right," he stated simply.

_But it isn't. Heal it._

"I don't want to. It makes things go away."

_Heal it._

"No."

"Heal it!" she screamed, finding her voice.

Súndavar jumped, surprised at her wrath. He murmured words under his breath, and the wound healed.

She let out a breath. "Súndavar, you can't do that."

"I can, and I have."

"But you shouldn't," her voice had returned to a disbelieving whisper. "Why?"

"Why? Why what?"

"Why are you doing that?"

Súndavar shrugged and laid back in the bed. "Because when life hurts me, it makes me forget."

"What has life done to you that's so horrible?" she asked, laying down beside him and touching his chest. Her fingers brushed over his collarbone, touching his scar, and he shivered in mixed delight and regret. He shouldn't have hit her…

He shrugged again. "Lexia's dead."

His voice was so casual, so nonchalant, that Rune pitied him. "Don't pretend it doesn't matter," she advised. "You can mourn. It's okay to cry and scream and throw things. Just don't hurt anyone. Yourself included."

"It doesn't matter," he denied lightly. "People die all the time, right? No big deal. She wasn't special."

Rune sighed softly, her breath like butterflies on his skin. "I wish there was something I could do to help you," she told him quietly. "But you won't let me in."

He turned to her, a new fire in his eyes. "Actually, there is something."

Rune stopped, her heart registering what he was doing before her mind could. He leaned closer to her, pausing for a moment as if waiting for a sign. Rune tried to pull away, but she couldn't. His eyes were locked on hers, as if she was hypnotized by them.

Their lips met, slowly at first. In that moment, everything became clear to Rune. She knew his pain, his anger, his frustration. All his bottled feelings rushed into her mind, sending waves of emotion down her body. His hands slipped around her waist.

Trust, anger, love, fear, Rune wasn't sure what she was feeling. Súndavar's mind was an open book, blending with hers in a weird and wonderful way. He was part of her, part of them.

She felt her hands sliding up his back, slipping his tunic over his head before she knew what was happening.

_No._

_Eragon._

She pulled away, breaking their contact and rolling away from him. "Súndavar, I can't."

His eyes flashed, but he said nothing. Rune retreated out the door, her heart still pounding. She let out a shaky breath.

She didn't stop running until she had reached Tialdarí Hall and could enclose herself in her room. She wanted to cry and sing and laugh and scream at the same time. In the end, she just went to sleep.

She dreamed of Eragon and Súndavar and Murtagh. They were dreams of confusion.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Shay felt strange, exposed without Thornessa at her side. She glanced around nervously, half suspecting enemies to jump out from behind the trees.

_Calm down,_ she urged herself.

But she couldn't. Her heart was going like crazy, and her tongue felt like lead. Vanir looked at her in amusement, stripping off his tunic. His hands went to his belt, but Shay turned red.

"I forgot," he muttered. "Humans have a problem with no clothing."

Shay nodded, kicking off her boots. Her tongue was still tied, and she didn't trust herself to speak.

Vanir's muscles rippled in his chest and arms, making Shay go weak. He dove into the lake, splashing her with the cool water. Testing it hesitantly, she slipped in after him.

_It's just swimming_, she tried to give herself assurance. But it wasn't _just_ swimming. It was swimming with Vanir.

He had asked her earlier that morning, after Rune had disappeared to talk to Súndavar.

Súndavar…now that was a kid who had problems. Shay pretended she didn't notice, but she had seen the slashes on his wrist, seen the way his eyes looked like glass.

Vanir splashed her, bringing her back to the present. "Everwood, if you want me to swim with you, listen when I talk."

Shay translated that as: _Pay attention! I don't like being ignored._

She laughed and dove under the water. Her clothes hindered her some – she wasn't used to swimming with anything on – but she still managed to make it to the bottom of the deep part with some air left. Vanir was right behind her, stroking his arms powerfully. If he had been anyone else, Shay would have challenged him to a race. But she would have lost. And his ego was big enough as it was.

She tossed sand at him, watching it scatter and fog up the water. She pushed up off the bottom, shooting herself up to the surface. She broke the top of the water with a splash.

A few feet out from shore, there was a drop off. Shay stood on it, trying to see Vanir in the depths below. The water reached her knees. She couldn't tell where he was.

_That probably wasn't a good thi_—

The thought came a few seconds too late. Vanir came up under her, knocking her off the ledge and into the deep water. She gave a little scream of surprise. With his elf strength, he threw her several feet into the air before she splashed back down again.

She came up sputtering and laughing at the same time. There was a grin on Vanir's face, which was quickly replaced with raised eyebrows and a partially disgusted expression when she glanced his way. It made Shay laugh harder.

She levered herself up onto the underwater ledge and stood by him for a moment. Then, out of the blue, she pushed him in. It felt wonderful, and she couldn't help but give a whoop of pleasure as he splashed into the water.

He surfaced moments later and shook out his hair, sending droplets of water onto Shay's already wet skin. She thought the head shake made him look wonderful – boyish and ready to play. A thought which she immediately banished, of course.

Vanir launched himself at her – whether in anger or playfulness, Shay couldn't tell – sending them both flying into the water. They surfaced together.

He dropped her off at Tialdarí Hall when it got dark.

"I'll see you, Everwood," he told her.

Shay nodded. "Yeah. Goodnight."

"Dream of…whatever it is you humans say." He began to walk away, then turned and gave a half-hearted wave.

Shay smiled. Vanir was an idiot. A self-obsessed, cocky, smug, arrogant, haughty, annoying ass with an ego the size of the Beors. _And yet…_

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Súndavar looked at the dagger in his hand. As much as he hated to admit it, Rune was right. What we was doing to himself was wrong.

But…it felt so wonderful. It hurt, yes, but it gave him release.

He took a deep breath.

_No more, _he tried to tell himself. _No more_.

But Rune had pulled away. It had been perfect, until…

Súndavar understood why she had done it. It was easy to get carried away. He was a Rider, she a princess, and no matter how much he hated to admit it, she just wasn't ready. She had spent the night with both he and Eragon – Murtagh too, probably – but taking that slumber a step further was too much for her.

Besides, they couldn't afford to be distracted. There was a war going on, and they both had their parts to play. Not to mention her connection to Eragon…

_Shadow?_

Súndavar looked up at the dragon, who had landed in his nest-home, then down at the dagger.

_Please don't do it again,_ Slate begged. But his voice in Súndavar's mind was hopeless, as if he knew that no matter how muhc he begged, the troubled Rider would do it anyway.

_No. I won't._ Súndavar tried to sound confident, in control, but he knew Slate could tell he was feeling terrible.

_You want to, though._

_Yes. But I won't. For Rune. And for you. And…and for Lex._

Slate blinked slowly, nodding his head. He wanted to say something of encouragement, but nothing came to mind, so he retreated back into his nest.

The night dragged on. Súndavar couldn't sleep, battling with his inner thoughts of worthlessness and anger. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling with searching eyes, as if the answer was somehow held there.

It was past midnight when he heard her come in. Her bare feet made little padding noises on the ground, and her hair whisked around her shoulders like a shadow.

She slipped under the covers next to him, allowing his arm to slip around her shoulders and using it as a pillow. Rune tucked her nose under his chin. They lay like that for a while. Súndavar wanted to speak, but she shushed him wordlessly.

_Go to sleep, shadow boy_, she bid him, her consciousness making little ripples in his mind.

_If I do, you'll leave._

She hesitated. _No, I'll stay. I promise._

_All night?_

_I suppose. Go to sleep._

That was one command Súndavar was willing to obey. He slipped into darkness, the feeling of her in his mind.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Go._

Thorn looked hesitantly at Shruikan. Was this a test?

_What?_

_I said go._

Thorn spred his wings to take to the sky, but Shruikan held his tail with a claw. _You're foolish to attempt this by yourself._

_It has to be done,_ Thorn told him unsurely. He wanted to help Rune, but this would be dangerous.

Shruikan nodded and smiled. _That's why I'm going with you. _


	25. Dark Blooded Disgrace

Súndavar watched Rune's face, his chin resting on her chest. She didn't look at him, and her face was blank.

"You'll be late, Súndavar," she admonished, still not meeting his eyes.

He kissed her collarbone lightly and felt her stiffen beneath him. She met his eyes hesitantly, then darted away.

What was wrong with her?

Had she really changed so much in a few months of slumber as to feel uncomfortable with him? He used to be able to read her emotions on her face, but now it was a closed door to him. It was as if she had to remember to smile when she caught his eye. And the smile was always forced.

"A kiss for your thoughts," he murmured to her, voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm thinking about Eragon," she told him flatly. After a pause she added: "And save your kiss."

Súndavar drew away, frowning. "Eragon?" he asked. "Why do you think of _him?"_

Rune blinked. "You have much to learn if you presume to tell me who I can and cannot think of, Súndavar."

Súndavar felt as if he had been slapped. "I—I know. I just wanted to know why _Eragon_, that's all."

"Because I like him," Rune answered his question in a blunt tone.

"Oh. _Like_ him?"

"I don't know," she said, sounding a bit annoyed. Súndavar had no right to be so protective of her. She wasn't his possession.

Súndavar didn't catch her tone. "You just don't want to tell me," he teased, "Do you like him or not?"

"He's a wonderful friend and doesn't hit me or cut himself," Rune replied snippily. "I don't know if I like him that way, but if you continue I probably will, if only to spite you. _Eragon_ knows when to just shut his mouth."

Súndavar frowned, raising his hands in a 'don't shoot me' motion. Rune groaned and shifted position, rolling her eyes.

Súndavar got up, stung. Why was she being so mean? How could he have angered her so much just by asking?

It was just a question.

Rune got off the bed too, moving towards the door with a flick of her hair.

Before she could open the door, a knock sounded on it. Shay's face peeked through a few moments later.

In all truth, Shay wasn't surprised to find Rune in Súndavar's room. Her tunic looked like it had been slept in, so most likely she had spent the night. That didn't surprise Shay either. Nor did the fact that Súndavar was shirtless. But from Rune's fiery eyes, all had not gone well between them.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal Rune from you, Rider," Shay told him with a tiny smile.

Rune looked back at him. "No Shay. He doesn't own me, so I cannot be stolen. We're fencing today, aren't we?"

Súndavar looked bewildered, lost, and hurt. "Rune…"

Rune's eyes flashed.

"Um…yes. Come on, then," Shay murmured uncomfortably.

Rune left Súndavar in her wake, not even looking back.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune parried, her blade flashing. Vanir leaned against a tree nearby, watching with his hawk-like eyes, hands crossed over his chest. Shay tried another attack, but Rune defended, her sword working in tight, tense little circles.

"Loosen up," Shay admonished. "You have to flow."

Rune didn't seem to hear her. Her brow was creased in concentration, her hair covered in sweat. Shay knocked her sword from her hand and pressed her blade against her throat.

"You're improving, little princess," Vanir told her with obvious disdain, speaking for the first time since he had begun watching. Rune batted Shay's sword away and looked at him.

"Don't call me little. I'll be fifteen…" her face crossed in doubt for a moment, then cleared. "Next week."

Vanir snorted. "Like that is anything to boast about. You aren't even old enough to be considered a woman among your own people, much less mine."

Rune drew back against Shay for protection. "The elves are my people too," she bleated.

"It is disgusting enough to have Mistress Lycona's name blemished with a forced child," he told her cruelly, "It is worse to have that child be sired by the lowest swine ever to crawl the earth. You claim the elves as your people?" Vanir's eyes flashed. "That is a disgrace to us."

Rune's eyes widened. Shay wrapped her arms around her shoulders, drawing her close.

Vanir wasn't finished. "You're half-blooded," he hissed. "You'll never fit in anywhere. Not human, not elf, not rider. A humiliation."

Shay could feel Rune go rigid against her. She felt the younger girl trying to restrain herself from going to tears. Her jaw was set defiantly, and her knuckles were white from grasping her sword.

"Not only that, but you taint your already vile blood with the beds of Riders. You may call yourself a princess, but you are nothing but a whore."

Insults to her name, she could take. But he had accused her virtue! Not only hers, but Eragon's and Súndavar's as well.

"If I am such a disgrace, Vanir-_vodhr_, I pray we shan't cross paths again. May you never be forced to lay eyes on me once more; for fear I bring such an indignity to your great and mighty name." Her words were eloquent, without a trace of rage or emotion at all. Her voice was different…a level, political voice.

She walked away, head held high. She didn't stalk off, or break into a run. Shay admired her reserve. A true princess's reserve. There was nothing to give Vanir the hint that he had gotten to her.

Rune was soon out of sight.

Shay turned on Vanir, rage in her eyes. "How could you do that?"

"I spoke nothing but the truth," Vanir stated flippantly. "It is bad enough to be a half-blood. If it worse to be the mongrel child of a distinguished elf lady. On top of that, her father is _Galbatorix_. It's disgusting."

Shay took a dangerous step towards him. "Rune is as much a person as you and I are."

"Define '_person'_."

Shay shook with ire, bile rising in her throat. "I stand corrected. She's _more_ of a person than you."

Vanir shrugged, as though her opinion meant nothing to him. "You may think as you wish."

"_Oh, thank you for permission,"_ Shay bit. "You don't own me. I'll think what I want, whether you say I can or not."

"I don't dispute that you will."

Shay wanted to slap him, but held herself back. It would only amuse him more. Digging her fingernails into her palms so hard as to draw blood, she stalked off – not possessing the formality to mask her loathing. Even if she had, she wanted him to know how she felt.

Her heart felt like it was being ripped in two. She had been so sure; there was something tender under his difficult exterior. But what he had said…

She slammed the door to her room, like she used to when she was still little and living in Dras-Leona. After a fight with Lily she would have slammed the door just like that, then bawled into her pillow for hours. Her fight with Vanir just made her want to break something. Nothing besides the desk presented itself, and Shay was sure the elves wouldn't appreciate her smashing the piece of furniture. Instead she began to pace, chewing on a fingernail like she did when thinking of a battle plan.

_Ugh._

This was why she had never had a lover.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune felt the tears slide down her cheeks, but she seemed far away. Islanzadí was saying something, something to comfort her, but she couldn't focus on the words. The world was a blur.

What was it Vanir had said?

_You'll never fit in anywhere._

What if he was right? What if she really _didn't_ belong? What if she was set apart from everyone else by her blood? She didn't belong in Ellesméra – her human blood made her different. And elves hadn't been seen in human cities for decades. She…she was alone. There was no one like her.

_There is Súndavar,_ said the little voice in her head. _He is half-blood._

But he wasn't. Súndavar was a Rider. It was different for him.

Islanzadí was stroking her hair, like Murtagh used to, and humming a low song that had no words and yet somehow _spoke._

Rune hadn't snitched on Vanir. She would never dream of that. But somehow Islanzadí had known who it was who sent the girl to her in tears.

"I'll have his head," she had grumbled to herself. She had then turned to Rune and smiled. "You mustn't take Vanir personally, Rune-_vira_."

But she had. It was _she_ he had insulted, for having dark blood in her veins – a fact she took no pride in. It was _she_ he had called lesser, as if a disfigured animal fit only for the slaughter.

She sighed and pushed Islanzadí away. The queen backed off, not offended in the least. She understood Rune's pain, understood the need for solitary healing. "Come, child," she whispered to her, guiding her gently in the way one would a frightened animal. "There is something you need to see."

Rune allowed herself to be lead without complaint. Her eyes were closed, and she was lost in her thoughts.

Islanzadí led the girl to a room. She opened the door, hesitating a moment before resting her hand on the magic-crafted wood. She propelled Rune in. The instant Rune's skin lost contact with hers, the elf queen shivered and retreated, as if hit by a blast of cold wind.

_The memories in this room…_

The magic was thick here. There was a _presence_, as if someone was watching, staying out of sight but never straying far. _Her_ presence. It was too much for the queen. She closed the door quietly, drawing away in fear.

This room enchanted and scared her. What terrors laid within it, she knew not. When wonderful spells of joy and bliss, she was none to wiser. She liked it that way.

She walked solemnly down the hall, leaving Rune alone.

The girl opened her eyes. The room she found herself in was not unlike her own, small and modest, with a simple bed and desk. But somehow, beyond appearances, the room didn't feel _real._

The bed was made too well, the sheets pulled tightly and not a crease in the blanket. The desk was free of any clutter. This room didn't feel right.

She sensed the sleeping magic here, sensed it in her soul. But she didn't fear it. No, it couldn't hurt her. It was her friend. She called out to it with her heart, called to the magic than ran within her blood and within the room.

In her mind's eye, a face appeared. Her own face. Her own sorrel-leaf green eyes and determined jaw. Her own pale, peaches-and-cream skin and pointed ears.

The reflection startled her.

Because the girl in her mind was not herself.

The girl in her mind had pale hair, the color of sunshine and gold and the grasses of the fields. It fell in a plait, and Rune realized that it had been braided into hundreds of thousands of tiny braids, each no more than three strands. In turn, these had been braided, and so forth, creating a thick rope of braids that wrapped around and was waist length.

The girl in Rune's mind was older, too. Or perhaps younger…Rune couldn't tell. She had an ageless quality about her, a wisdom in her eyes that exceeded the years of her body.

The magic weaved into the walls called to Rune, and Rune knew her.

_Lycona._

As soon as the vision was there, it was gone. But Rune could feel it there, on the edges of her consciousness.

This had been Lycona's room. This had been the room where she had weaved the most powerful of her magic, to watch over this place she called home, even after she was gone. It was a strange and wonderful, calling magic, and Rune felt at peace.

She wanted to touch everything, shout her mother's name in both joy and fear, but she held back. The magic here would not permit her to violate this place. It would hurt her to try, kill her to insist. Instead, she let out a silent prayer.

_Wherever you are,_ she whispered, _I honor you._

The magic seemed to have a life of its own. It reacted to her silent supplication, swirling around her with Lycona's own being.

_Rune_.

Her name was a voice in the wind, and for a moment, Rune lost herself in the magic. She could stay here…surrounded by her mother and her fay will. She became part of it, part of her, losing her identity in the process. She could just sink down into it's comforting depths…

_Fay will bind you, if you let it. Leave now, daughter of the earth and of the sky and of the very magic that brought the world forth. Go with my blessings._

Her own voice.

Lycona's voice.

Rune felt herself being pulled out of the magic embrace, remembering who she was and the will to be a person. She moved to the door. It opened on its own, as if willing her away, willing her to leave before she got ensnared in its web too deeply to remove herself.

The half-blooded girl strode confidently through Tialdarí, feeling both energetic and very tired at the same time. She wanted to sleep forever, and yet she knew that she would never be able to now.

She didn't get lost on her way back to her room. If someone had asked her the way, she would have looked at them in confusion, unable to explain.

But her heart knew it, and that was enough.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune sat between Eragon and Súndavar at dinner, but she didn't feel the need to eat. The magic of Lycona's room had left her feeling invincible, immortal.

Súndavar played with his food absently. Rune saw the new slash on his wrist, but she said nothing. What could she say?

Eragon seemed to notice something was amiss. _Rune, you are a hundred leagues away._

Rune blinked, startled by his words. It was true, she had been far away, her mind drifting pointlessly. _I'm sorry. I must be tired._

_You should get some sleep. Are not your chambers suitable?_

There was a hint in his voice, and Rune fought the urge to laugh. _Yours are better,_ she answered with mock seduction. _But tonight I sleep alone, Silver Hand._

Eragon tried to send colors into her mind, but failed miserably, sending only a blurry grayish blob. Rune laughed.

Súndavar turned to her sharply. "Pray tell," he asked, voice like a whip, "What humors you so?"

Rune blinked at him. "Nothing."

"No, really. I'm sure we'd all like to hear the joke."

Saphira rumbled in warning, but Súndavar ignored her. Slate shifted uncomfortably at her side.

_Do not be stupid, Shadow_.

"S_ticks and stones,_

_buzzard bones,_

_darkest blood,_

_and heart unknown!"_

Blagden ruffled his feathers, staring grumpily at Slate, as if daring the dragon to challenge him. Slate smoked, snorting a puff of the black fog at the raven, before returning to his food.

Súndavar thought the rhyme sounded like something that would go in a witch's brew. He shivered. Not a good witch, like Angela. A bad witch.

Rune picked up on his discomfort, but remained aloofly disconnected.

What was up with her, anyways?

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Shruikan, I'm tired,_ Thorn told the older dragon.

Shruikan didn't look at him. _Feel your wings beat at the air. Become aware of what is around you. Forget your own tiredness, and find life in everything else._

Thorn tried to do as he said, but soon lost interest and returned to grumpy silence. Shruikan made a terrible traveling partner. He didn't talk, didn't slow, and didn't seem to tire. His wings kept moving, over and over and over.

An hour passed with no words between the two dragons.

_Shruikan, I'm tired._

**Author's Note: Hey guys. I just wanted to say, a lot of you may be confused by the part about Rune in Lycona's chambers. It's okay if you are, because it's not supposed to make sense. Well, it is…but it's like the dragon that healed Eragon at the Blood Oath Celebration. Some things cannot be explained, they just _are._ I tried to portray that depth, but if you're still stumped, don't worry, it's not a huge part of the story and most likely won't come up again.**

**Also, I assume MOST of the people reading this are girls. (I'm not being sexist, I'm just saying from your reviews and stuff…I just get the feeling). Anyways, the next chapter might make any of you guys out there slightly uncomfortable. (hint: it has to do with her unexplainable annoyance, and mood shifts. Girls probably know what I mean.) Just thought I'd give you a heads up. Hearts, Kittie**


	26. Apologies and Discussions

Rune heard the knock on her door. She groaned, pulling herself out of bed. She would have dressed, but it was probably just Súndavar, and he had seen her in her nightclothes already.

The knock sounded again.

"Coming!" she snapped, feeling angry despite herself. She opened the door and nearly fainted in shock.

Vanir stood there, looking distinctly embarrassed, annoyed, and just a bit angry. Shay stood by his side, a triumphant grin on her face.

"Yes?" Rune asked, trying to keep the blush from her face. Shay seeing her like this wasn't a big deal, the captain had dressed her before when she was sleeping and was a woman as well. There was nothing to be embarrassed about with her. But Vanir…she felt her insides turning. He was a man, and an elf, and one that had insulted her to boot. She fought the urge to slam the door in his face and put on more suitable clothes. But no…that would be worse than just living with it. A true princess took things in stride. Even embarrassing things like this.

"Vanir has something he wants to tell you," Shay purred, sounding pleased with herself as a cat in the cream.

"After his words to me on the practice field, I owe him not. Why should I listen?"

"_Wiol iet ilian_?" Shay asked. Rune wasn't sure why she used the ancient tongue, but she shrugged.

"Very well. You have my ears."

Vanir scuffed his boot nervously. "I wished to inform you of my apologies," he said nervously. "I was wrong about you and the blood in your veins. Half-blood you may be, but honored I am to call you elf."

Rune raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "How do I know you aren't simply saying so to get back in favor with Shay?"

Vanir turned red to the tips of his ears. "Magic sings within you," he murmured. "We all felt it yesterday when you nearly lost yourself to the magic of Mistress Lycona's weaving. It seems you are more enwrapped in our world than I believed."

Rune wanted to ask if he truly had not known, of if he had refused to admit it. "Apology accepted. Is there anything else I should know?"

"I cannot swallow my words," Vanir mumbled, "but I beg forgiveness for calling you a whore, in edition to my insulting your birth."

Rune shrugged. "I know how my relationships with Eragon and Súndavar may appear. But I assure you I am a maiden, and to my knowledge they share my virtue in this. You are forgiven."

Vanir nodded thankfully, still scuffing his boot on the ground. Shay crossed her arms over her chest smugly, a grin remaining on her face.

"Would you join us for breakfast?" Shay offered. "Súndavar and Eragon have already gone with Oromis."

Rune looked down at herself. "Thank you for the offer. Excuse me while I dress."

Shay laughed. "We'll meet you by the practice fields. Vanir and I will bring the food."

Rune smiled back at her, shutting the door softly.

She moved to make her bed, but something caught her eye. She stiffened. There was dried blood on the sheet. What happened?

It took Rune a moment to realize that the blood was from _her_. Panic clutched at her heart. What was happening to her? Was she sick? Her heart beat faster.

She slipped into her clothes quickly, running out to meet Shay and Vanir. They were on the edge of the fencing ring, as promised.

Rune's wide eyed stare made Shay stop. "Rune? You okay?"

Rune nodded, then shook her head. "I…I don't know. I think I'm sick."

Shay blinked. "What's wrong?"

"I'm bleeding."

Vanir turned red, and Shay laughed.

"Shay! It isn't funny! What's wrong with me?"

Vanir gave a little moan, turning away and hitting his head against a tree. Shay went over to Rune and touched her shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry," she said with an amused smile. "You'll be okay. But breakfast will have to wait."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"It's normal?"

"Yeah. It happens to all girls," Shay said softly, settling in to the older sister roll easily.

Rune sighed with relief, sinking into her chair. "So I'm not dieing?"

Shay laughed. "No. You're not dieing. It's just woman's blood."

"Oh." Rune smiled, very happy with this revelation. The fear she had felt faded. "It must make a terrible mess though. And I wouldn't want to get blood on Súndavar's sheets," she said innocently.

Chuckling, Shay nodded. "You'll have to hold off on spending the night with the Riders for a while."

"How long?" Rune asked, sounding like a child asking how long she was grounded.

"Until it stops. Usually not too long."

"Oh. Alright. Maybe Súndavar will leave me alone then."

Shay shook her head. "Don't talk to him about it. It'll just make him uncomfortable. And…"

Rune looked at the ground. "I know he's doing it again. He promised he wouldn't."

Shay touched her hand. "Maybe you should tell Oromis. About Súndavar, I mean. Not your bleeding."

Rune's eyes widened. "You mean _tell_ on him? Not a chance."

"He needs help. Oromis is the one who can give it."

Rune shook her head determinedly. Suddenly she felt very sad. Tears started to fall, sliding down her cheeks.

_What? Tears?_

Usually she wasn't this much of a cry-baby. Shay sighed understandingly, drawing her in and rocking her gently.

"That's another thing," she said. "You'll be sad or angry a lot, when and before you bleed. I usually just get angry…"

_So **that's** why she had gotten so mad at Súndavar._

"Come now, dry your eyes," Shay admonished gently. "Vanir will have eaten all the food."

Rune gave a tight smile and a half-laugh, and followed Shay back to the elf, who was still waiting for them. He hadn't touched the food, but was staring at it cravingly.

He looked up at them. "Done _talking_? Then let's eat. I'm hungry."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Súndavar?"

The Shade boy turned away from her angrily.

"Súndavar, I'm sorry I got mad at you," Rune said to the back of his head.

Súndavar folded his hands over his chest, refusing to speak.

"You don't have to be a baby about it," she told him.

"I'm not," he grumbled.

She sat down next to him on the fallen log. Touching his wrist gently, she ran her fingers along the parallel scars. Another fresh one – it bled on her fingers when she touched it, and Súndavar grimaced.

"You're doing it again," she said.

"I can't help it. It feels good."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "There are other things that feel good, Súndavar."

"Like this," he agreed, twisting his head and catching her lips.

She pulled away instantly. "There are other things that feel good and _don't_ involve _me_."

"Not a chance," he whispered. "One or the other."

There was a trace of a joke in his voice, but there was also truth. Rune sighed. "Don't joke. This is serious."

"If you say so."

Rune shook her head in wonderment at how much of an idiot he could be. "Shay thinks I should tell Oromis."

"You told Shay?"

"No. She just knew. She's smart, Súndavar."

Súndavar shrugged. "I don't care. What's she going to do?"

Rune tucked his longish black hair behind his ear, then ran her fingers over his cheek and along his jaw. He shivered under her touch.

"Are my hands cold?" she asked, removing them from his skin.

"No. Put them back."

Rune frowned. "Súndavar, I've told you before. Despite any attraction I might have to you – _might­ –_ it wouldn't work out. Eventually, I'm going to have to decide where to go from here. And you're a Rider."

"You could choose to stay with me," Súndavar suggested hopefully.

Rune shook her head. "I may not act like it, but I've got royal blood hidden somewhere in me. That's got to count for something, even if I don't know what. Sooner or later, something is going to happen. I don't want to spend my life tagging along after you and Eragon like a dog."

Súndavar sighed. She was right.

"Súndavar Eddyrheart, I like you, okay? We're friends. Please don't spoil that."

Súndavar pursed his lips. "As you wish, princess," he flirted with mock formality.

Rune laughed and hit him softly on the head. She got up to leave.

"And Súndavar?"

"Hmm?"

"Don't do it again."

Súndavar groaned. "Spoilsport," he pretended it was a joke, but Rune saw through the disguise.

"Call me what you want. Next time, _I'm telling Oromis._"

Súndavar got up to follow her. "Whatever you say, _princess_."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Murtagh paced his room nervously. He dared not try to talk to Thorn, in case Galbatorix picked up on his speech. But he was going insane with worry. The dragon could take care of himself, yes. But Murtagh wasn't used to being separated for so long.

He tried to entertain himself with thoughts of Rune, but her picture was even more blurred than before. It scarred him. He thought of Lily instead.

She would be close to Ellesméra by now. She had to be. Unless she got lost and died in Du Weldenvarden. But Murtagh banished that thought immediately. She was fine. This was _Lily_ he was talking about.

Lily, who loved to play damsel in distress when really she could kick your butt without blinking.

Lily, whose hair felt soft between his fingers. Like Rune's hair had felt.

Lily, who had hugged him so tightly when she left, her body begging him to hold her forever.

"_I may never see you again_," she had said as she mounted her horse. "_But you'll be a melody in my heart, for always and forever. Until the stars burn out."_ Then she had laughed.

"_Did I really just say that?" He remembered her smile as she shook her head in mock revulsion with herself. "I don't think I've ever been so sappy in my life."_

Then she had kissed him. On the lips, like Rune had. Except Lily's kiss was different.

Sighing, Murtagh ran his fingers through his hair.

_You better come through on this one, dragon,_ he muttered, less to Thorn than to himself. _For both our sakes._


	27. Intoxicating Moonlight

Shay stared at the thing on the bed in horror. She bit her lip nervously, feeling her stomach tense up. She chewed on a fingernail, unsure what to do. She could just ignore it…

"Shay are you—"

Rune's voice broke off, as Shay turned to face the girl.

"Shay, you haven't even _started_ getting ready."

Shay shook her head, unable to speak. She had never before thought of Rune was _pretty_, she was just…well, she was _Rune_.

But it wasn't Rune that stood before her now. The woman who Shay saw now was so different from the girl she was used to. Her skin was paler than usual, her eyes a more vibrant green. When she blinked, it was slowly, elegantly. This new Rune was regal and poised. A princess. The Princess of Uru'baen.

Her dress wasn't complicated or expensive, but it was perfect in its simplicity. Hues of green and gold danced across her form, and the sleeves flowed loosely, slit to the elbows. It was cut low and slid off her shoulders. Her hair had been streaked with braids, but most of it flowed free.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost," Rune told her. "Am I really that scary?"

Shay pointed to the thing on the bed. Rune's eyes shifted from Shay to the object of her horror, then she laughed. "Oh, Shay…"

She moved to the bed, picking up the offending garment and holding it up in front of her. "It would look good on you. It matches your eyes."

"I don't wear dresses."

"There is no better time to start than now."

"I'll just wear my tunic," she protested, backing up a step.

"Shay, that tunic isn't even _clean_. Come on, I'll help you."

It took a solid twenty minutes before Rune was able to coax Shay into the gown, and another fifteen to convince her not to take it off again.

"Let me fix it," the younger girl offered, threading the lacing in the back and tightening it. She straightened the shoulders, smoothed the fabric. Finally she deemed Shay ready to see the result.

Shay looked in the mirror and blanked. That wasn't her. The figure, looking tall and nervous and frighteningly pale, couldn't have been her. Her blue eyes widened in fear.

"Rune, I can't…"

"Shut up," the princess snipped, examining her from every angle. "Tuck your hair out of your face. The gown matches your eyes, and you have to be able to see them."

Shay obeyed, albeit forlornly.

The dress was silvery-blue, the color of a motionless lake. It was backless, save for the lacing, and was so long Shay was sure she was going to trip over it.

Rune murmured something under her breath. "You're very pretty, Shay," she said finally. "Tunics don't do you justice."

"It won't matter what I look like," Shay countered. "You'll have every eye, princess."

"I know at least one pair that's going to be fixed on you," Rune told her with an impish smile.

"If you mean Vanir, I doubt it. He doesn't feel that way about me."

Rune suppressed a giggle. "If you say so."

"I do. He said so himself."

"And you believed him?" Rune shook her head, making disapproving noises. "Shay, you're hopeless."

"It's not my fault," Shay defended, knowing Rune wasn't really accusing her of anything, but feeling the need to say something. "Besides, what do you know about men?"

As soon as she asked the question, Shay saw how silly it was. Rune may have been younger than her, but she had spent the night with two – if not three – men, all Riders. She had been kissed by two of them, and had initiated a kiss with the other.

In short, Rune had every right to speak from experience on the matter of men.

Shay, on the other hand, did not.

"I've seen the looks he shoots your way when you aren't looking," Rune informed her. "I'll bet he'll be gawking when he sees you tonight."

"What if he doesn't?"

Rune thought for a moment. "Then it's his loss. Or are you looking for a bet?"

Shay shrugged. "Loser has to ask Oromis to dance?"

"Done."

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Our guest of honor arrives," Islanzadí announced as Rune came into the Grand Chamber.

Rune would have turned red, but she forced the blush down, smiling to the elves nearest to her. She tread carefully towards Islanzadí, holding the hem of her skirt up so she didn't trip on it.

Islanzadí embraced her. "You look wonderful."

"Thank you, Lady."

Rune stared in wonder around her. The Grand Chamber had been totally transformed, all for her. Her heart swelled in gratitude. A pinkish bubble floated by her hand, and she reached out to touch it. It surprised her by not popping. Instead, it bounced off her finger, continuing its merry way through the vast room.

"The bubbles were Arya's idea," Islanzadí said. "She had them at her fifteenth year celebration too. They're spelled, so they won't pop."

Everything looked surreal. Blue fire flickered in torches, bubbles floated, and the elves talked quietly among themselves. The Grand Chamber was half outside, half sheltered. The moonlight lit the area as much as the fire did. Music spun around everything, music that wasn't quite magic, but close enough to it that it lifted Rune's spirits.

She stood on tip-toes, searching for Eragon.

The elves parted to let her pass, offering words of 'congratulations' and '_Sé mor'ranr ono finna_'.

Eragon stood by the fountain, which sparkled with faelnírv. His face lit up when he saw her.

She gave him a little hug. "This is more than I ever dreamed," she said. "Every elf in Ellesméra must be here."

Eragon laughed. "You are the daughter of Lycona. They honor your birth, and the passing of the years she has lived on in you."

Rune smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "You're just repeating that."

"True enough. It's what Lifaen said."

"Lifaen?" Rune blinked, searching through Eragon's memories in her mind. "Oh, right. The elf guide."

It still made Eragon uncomfortable when he saw her remembering his past. She had asked him about some of the things – the Spine…Garrow's death…-- but he could tell she didn't _need_ to ask. She knew already.

"Come on," she bid. "Let's go find Súndavar."

Eragon shrugged and let her drag him back into the crowd.

She found Súndavar leaning against a wall, inspecting his wrist. Her saw Eragon and hid it behind his back. "Congratulations, Rune," he murmured.

Rune shot him a glare.

_You didn't._

Súndavar looked sheepish. "Cool party. My eyes keep straying to the big stack of stuff on that table. It seems everyone brought you something. Honoring Lycona, no doubt."

Rune laughed. "Half of it won't even fit into my room, I'm sure. And I won't be able to bring it all back to the Varden with me."

"Perhaps you could get more permanent chambers?" Eragon suggested. "Like Arya's."

Shrugging, Rune leaned against the wall near Súndavar. Elves had begun dancing, and the once-serene music had picked up pace.

"Hey, did anyone see Shay?" she asked. "I have a bet to settle with her."

Shay had lost miserably. Vanir's eyes hadn't left her since the moment she had entered. Rune had noticed, but Shay hadn't. Vanir always kept just out of her line of sight.

"What sort of bet?"

Rune shook her head. "A personal one. But the loser has to ask Oromis to dance."

Súndavar cracked up. "Who lost?"

"She did. Obviously. Where is Saphira?"

"She and Slate haven't arrived yet. Apparently her scales don't shine bright enough, or something of that nature. Slate wouldn't come without her."

"_Ah_…female vanity," Súndavar laughed, rolling his eyes.

Rune raised her eyebrows and twirled for him, showing off the way her dress hugged her body. He smiled and licked his lips. "Then again, it isn't always a bad thing." He took a step towards her, and her eyebrows shot up further, as if daring him to try something.

Resigned, Súndavar returned to leaning against the wall.

Eragon opened his mouth to say something, but in that moment, the dragons landed.

Saphira's scales shone brilliantly, and Slate looked more handsome than he ever had. He let out a bellow of joy.

_The party has arrived._

His words echoed in all the elves' heads, and they laughed.

Saphira approached Rune and the Riders, a dragon grin on her face. She nuzzled Rune with her snout.

"Hello, Saphira."

_Hello, little dove._

Eragon walked off, Saphira trailing him. They left Súndavar and Rune alone – whether on purpose or by accident, Rune wasn't sure.

"Dance with me?" he asked holding out a hand.

"Very well," she sighed. "But try anything and you're dead."

He kissed her quickly. "Death by your hands is better than life without."

Rune stuck her tongue out at him. "That's what I'm afraid of."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Come on, Vanir," Shay begged. "It'll be _hilarious!_"

"I do not see how getting everyone intoxicated it going to be funny in any way," he grumbled. But Shay had made up her mind.

"It's the kind of prank I always used to play back home," she told him. "It's funny, trust me."

Vanir shook his head, but Shay was already pulling him to the faelnírv fountain. She took the bottle of rum out from under her arm, and popped the cork.

Vanir took a look at the bottle and paled. "Everwood, that's _dwarf _rum…"

"They make it extra strong. I've been saving a bottle for just this type of situation."

Vanir put his head in his hands. "Islanzadí is not going to like this…"

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune took a sip of faelnírv and smiled. "It tastes good," she told Súndavar at her side. "Like rain and moonlight would taste."

Súndavar laughed and took his own glass from the bubbling fountain. If he had been less aware of Rune and more aware of his surroundings, he may have noticed Shay watching him with hawk eyes, a laugh on her face. But his gaze never strayed from her.

Rune raised her glance in a little toast, then took another swallow. Her head buzzed pleasantly.

"Let's dance some more," she suggested, pulling him after her. Súndavar discarded his cup and followed willingly.

She felt Súndavar's body pressing close, moving against hers in rhythm. Her hand caught his wrist and she squeezed.

_Did you?_

Súndavar was going to protest, deny it, but from the way she was stiff against him, she already knew the answer.

_Yes._

_I told you not to, shadow boy. Why?_

_I try not to. But it feels good._

Rune sighed, leaning into his arms in fatigue. He tightened his grip on her, and for a moment Rune had to admit she felt good. She backed off a step.

The music slowed. Couples began to pair off, going into a type of slow-dance Rune had never seen before. She saw the hope in Súndavar's eyes and shook her head. "No."

He stared at her with eyes like a pleading puppy's. Rune felt herself caving, her will to resist him growing thin.

"One dance," she muttered. "_One_."

He nodded, smiling in triumph.

It was the longest dance Rune had ever shared with someone. Or at least – it felt that way. The world beyond his eyes and his arms and his body faded, time slowed, grinding to a halt.

He pulled her even closer, and Rune gave a little whimper of pleasure and fear. She tried to back off, but he held her tight.

"I want you, Rune," he told her softly in her ear.

She didn't respond, burying her face in his neck. _Eragon…_ her mind tried to protest, but her body wouldn't listen.

"Don't let go," he murmured. Despite herself, Rune squeezed harder.

His hands worked up her body, from her hips, to her waist, until they were wrapped around her shoulders. His lips were on hers.

Surprisingly, Rune found that she didn't mind. The strange, pleasant buzzing in her head continued.

Above them, the moon glittered.

Rune laughed, feeling free and wonderful. She felt as if she could just lift off into the sky on invisible wings.

She went to get more faelnírv for herself and Súndavar, but found she couldn't walk in a straight line. Instead she sat down on the ground, laughing all the while.

Eragon materialized from the crowd of elves. "You're drunk," he said disapprovingly, helping her to her feet.

She giggled. "Impossible. I haven't had anything to drink all night." She leaned on him and kept giggling.

Eragon raised his eyebrows. He lead her to a table set with food and poured her a drink.

Rune sipped at it and made a face. "It's water."

"Water will clear your head," Eragon told her. "Although you'll still have a headache in the morning."

"Dance with me, Shadeslayer," she begged. "Come dance!"

Eragon shook his head. "You need to sit down."

"I don't want to," she pouted. "I want you to dance with me." She pulled on his hand little a child. "Come on."

Eragon picked her up, shaking her. She looked hurt, then giggled. "Do it again!"

Eragon could respond before a resounding call echoed through his mind.

"_Eighty-eight kegs of mead on the wall,_

_eighty-eight kegs of mead!_

_Take one down, pass it around_

_Eighty-seven kegs of mead on the wall!"_

Rune laughed. "Slate and Saphira are singing!" she chortled like an insane toddler, hugging herself. She raised her voice to join in their song.

Eragon looked around in confusion. The elves were singing with them.

_What's going on?_

Had _everyone_ gotten drunk?

He noticed Shay cracking up in a corner. Everyone else was laughing too, so that didn't surprise him but…Shay didn't drink. Ever. She said it muddled her mind and distracted her from her duty.

He approached her. "Shay, do you have any idea what's going on?"

She kept laughing. Vanir stood in uneasy silence.

"I put dwarf rum in the faelnírv," Shay told him between sniggers.

"Shay, are you stupid?" Eragon snapped, grabbing Rune before she could dart off.

Rune was still singing the song, and the dragons picked it up again with renewed vigor. She slipped away from him.

Eragon sighed, exasperated. Rune started dancing on a table. It took only moments for Súndavar to join her. She moved like a snake, weaving in and out and around him, never more than a few inches away.

He shot Vanir an evil glare. "You allowed this?"

"Everyone is having a good time, Shadeslayer, despite their current condition. You need not overreact."

"Me? Overreact?" Eragon dragged Rune off the table as she started unlacing her dress. "This is crazy!"

"Murtagh, quit it!" she yelped, climbing back on the table again.

Shay's eyes solemned. "I suppose it _did_ get out of hand. Should I take her back to her room?"

"Dump some water on her," Vanir advised.

Eragon found a vase and emptied in on Rune's head. She blinked at him for a moment, then got off the table.

"What'd you do that for?" she snapped, looking at her wet dress and soggy hair.

"Shay played a joke on you," Eragon replied. "You should go to bed."

"But I haven't opened my gifts yet!"

"You can open them tomorrow," Eragon pressed, beginning to escort her out of the Grand Chamber and away from the partying elves.

He lead her to his treehome. She didn't protest. She slipped between his sheets and was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

Eragon knew the party would continue deep into the night. Tomorrow the elves would not be so festive, he knew. Stripping down to his loincloth, he got into bed next to Rune.

She snuggled up to him, her warmth making him tired.

_I could get used to this._


	28. You Just Did

Rune's heart hammered in her skull, sending a jerk of pain through her mind with every beat. She groaned and rolled over.

"_Rune_?"

The voice was loud, like thunder. She recoiled, pulling the blanket over her head. "Go away!" came her muffled reply.

Her senses felt overloaded, her chest ached with every breath, and all traces of the enjoyable buzzing from last night were gone. She opened her eyes, then squeezed them shut again as light burst into her head.

_Rune?_

The voice in her heart was familiar, made some of the pain go away. _Eragon?_

_Yeah. How do you feel?_

_Awful. Worse than awful._

_It'll go away. Don't worry,_ Eragon assured.

She sent him painful blast of red, making him groan. Before he could recover, she piped, _What happened anyways?_

She felt Eragon's hands on her, helping her sit up. She followed their lead without much resistance.

_Shay got you drunk. She and Vanir added dwarf brew to the faelnírv._

_I'm going to kill her_, Rune grumped, easing open her eyes again. She found herself in Eragon's room. That was a surprise. Her memory was fuzzy.

"It was a—"

_Shut up. Your voice hurts my head._

_It was a joke,_ Eragon amended to her silently.

_Some joke. Why am I here?_

_I didn't want you waking up and going back to the party,_ Eragon explained sheepishly. _So I brought you here. Hope you don't mind?_

_No, it's fine. Did I make a fool of myself?_

_Well…_

_Did I?_

_You danced on the table,_ Eragon answered. _But no one minded. I stopped you from taking off your dress, so I think you've still got some dignity._

_Well, for that I thank you_, she murmured. _Can you heal my head?_

_Unfortunately, no. You've got to sit this one out._

Rune tried to stand up, but her head swum dangerously, and she collapsed against Eragon. He stood her back up, leaning in his arms. "You'll have to take it easy today."

She winced when he spoke out loud, but didn't complain. "Suppose," she muttered. "Where's Shay?"

"Most likely on the practice fields."

"Shouldn't you be with Oromis?"

"He gave me leave for the morning. Súndavar's moaning of a headache the size of the Beors, and both Saphira and Slate are still out cold."

Rune snorted, but said nothing. She started towards the door, moving slowly but with increasing confidence. "I think I'm good now," she said, leaning against the door. "I'd better go talk to Súndavar."

Eragon nodded. "He's being grilled by Oromis about one matter or another," said the Rider. "I've never seen Ebrithil so mad."

Rune's eyes widened, and she darted out the door, and down the stairs. Her mind swirled.

There was only one thing that Súndavar could be catching it for. His secret was out. And Rune knew that being reprimanded about it would only worsen her companion's problem.

She hid in the trees, watching Súndavar and Oromis talking.

"This type of behavior is intolerable," Oromis was saying. "It distracts from your duty as a Rider. Not only that, but it endangers yourself, as well as the princess."

_What?_ How did Súndavar hurting himself endanger Rune?_ Himself_, that she could understand, but _her_? What did Oromis think he was going to do, cut _her_ wrist?

"Her Highness has expressed to you she harbors no such feelings towards you," Oromis continued. "Yet you continue to push her."

Rune blinked stupidly. So _that_ was what this was about? Not Súndavar's cutting…about his endless flirting and come-ons? She resisted a laugh.

"I'm sorry, Oromis," Súndavar mumbled, looking at the ground.

Oromis shook his head and began to pace. "The conduct of the two of you at Rune's party was _most_ inappropriate."

"You can't hold it against us," complained the boy. "We were drunk."

Oromis's eyes flashed. "A point which I also must counsel you on. Drink clouds the mind, Súndavar. You—"

"It's wasn't our fault!" protested Súndavar. "Shay spiked the faelnírv!"

"Have I not taught you to detect when there are unknown contents in your food or drink?"

"Well…yes. But it was a party. I wasn't thinking about poison. And certainly not rum."

Oromis shook his head. "Despite your condition, you must be held accountable for your actions. Apologies to the princess are in order."

"Yes, Oromis."

"And you really must control yourself. Your infatuation with her must not take over your mind. Your heart belongs to the people."

"But—but I love her."

"A boyish passion," Oromis dismissed. "Fleeting as the sunset. It will fade in time. Do not nurse thoughts of her, for they will only lead to disappointment."

"She…"

"She feels nothing for you. You hold no place in her heart."

Súndavar looked at the ground. "Yes, Oromis."

"Súndavar, guard your heart, for such are treacherous, and will lead you astray. Go, find Rune and apologize. Lessons will resume tomorrow. I want not to speak of this again."

Nodding forlornly, the Shade boy turned from Oromis. Rune fled. She felt angry at Oromis for telling Súndavar he held no place in her heart – that wasn't true! – angry at Súndavar for not sticking up for himself, angry at Shay for starting the whole damned mess.

She wasn't sure where to go. Eragon would offer comfort, but he wouldn't really understand how she felt. Shay would understand…but she was mad at Shay. Arya…well, Arya was so calm, poised. She didn't have problems, and wouldn't know what to do with the emotional girl.

Instead she went to the practice fields. She wanted to hit something…

Vanir would do nicely.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Where's Vanir?"

The elf looked up at her, cringing at her voice as if his head hurt. "Vanir?"

"The black haired idiot who's usually here with Captain Shay."

"He is not here," muttered the elf, holding his head. "You might check his home."

He gave Rune directions, and the princess started off in the direction he pointed.

Rune hadn't gotten lost in Ellesméra since the day in Lycona's chambers. It was as if her mother's fay had made the city part of her. As if she knew it in her heart.

Vanir's home was surprisingly modest, a medium sized apartment. She knocked on the door angrily. It swung open.

"Vanir?"

There was no answer. Rune stepped hesitantly inside, looking for the elf.

He didn't seem to be home. Rune was about to leave, when she caught sight of something on the desk.

At first glance, she thought it was a painting. But it wasn't. It was a fairth, colored by magic.

She picked it up, examining it.

The picture was of Shay. But it was Shay as Rune had never seen her before. Her skin was the purest of white, flawless, without blemish. Her hair was like a shadow, and her eyes were the color of ice. A type of rage crossed her face, but it made her look even more beautiful.

A series of jumbled feeling and words soared into Rune's mind when she touched the fairth.

_Lust…beauty…anger…faith…wrath…hope…weakness…belief…fury…ignorance…_

She dropped it back on the desk, surprised. The feelings vanished.

"What are you doing?"

Rune gasped, turning. Vanir stood in the doorway, looking angry.

Unable to find the words, Rune stayed silent. She brushed dark copper hair from her face, fixing him with a meaningful look.

Vanir moved quickly across the room, picking up the fairth. He looked at it for a moment, then set it against the wall.

"It's Shay."

"Yes."

"And those feelings…they were yours?"

Confusion showed in his eyes. "Feelings?"

"When I touched it…" Rune murmured. "I…felt."

"No. They weren't mine," Vanir denied. "It's a stupid fairth anyways. It's not how I feel."

"I may be young, but I'm not a child. You cannot lie in the Ancient Language."

Vanir shrugged. "I said it's stupid."

"You like her, don't you?"

"Her company is pleasurable."

"Is that all?" Rune asked, knowing that it wasn't.

"I find her attractive. That is all."

Rune raised her eyebrows. "Very well. If you say so."

"She is human," Vanir said. "She is weak, and mortal as the leaves on the trees."

"Perhaps. But you can still love her."

"I do not."

"I suppose it doesn't mean much that I don't believe you?"

Vanir shook his head. "Rune-_finira,_ please. I cannot explain my feelings to you, and have no wish to do so."

"Can not, or will not?"

"Both. If I do feel anything for Shay Everwood, it is because I have not kept my heart in check, and allowed it to run away with fantasies. Such feelings must be rooted out. Nothing can come from such periods of lust."

Rune looked at him sadly. "You are dooming yourself to sorrow, Vanir," she told him.

"Perhaps. But sorrow is better than losing myself to my passion. Shay intrigues me, and sometimes I feel my reserve lessening when I look in her eyes. But it is not to be."

"But do as you wish."

"I will. Could we not speak of this again?"

"If you want."

"And you'll say nothing to Shay?"

Rune nodded. "Nothing of our conversation shall meet her ears. But you should tell her."

"You make it sound as if I have _admitted _to my love for her."

Rune smiled. "You just did."

**Ancient Language:**

**finira : an honorific for a young woman of great potential**

**Author's Note: 'finira' isn't real. I just took 'finiarel' and changed it to a more feminine form.**


	29. I Don't Need You

_She feels nothing for you._

Oromis's words rang in Súndavar's heart, like a flitting ghost. He hugged his knees to his chest, rocking himself slowly.

_You hold no place in her heart._

Súndavar felt despair clinging at him. If Oromis's words were true, what was the use of living? What was the point of continuing on? Without Rune, life was empty.

He had tried to find her, but had been unable to. She could have been anywhere in Ellesméra, and he still got lost every time he ventured through the city without a guide.

His head hurt terribly, reminiscent from the night before. Slate still slept in the Grand Chamber, twitching and murmuring things about kegs of mead on the wall. Súndavar was glad the dragon wasn't here. He didn't want to be disturbed. He would rather drown in his sorrow.

Dinnertime rolled around, but Súndavar didn't go. He wasn't hungry.

Instinctively, he felt for the snake charm at his neck, then remembered it wasn't there. It had been his gift to Rune. He had planned on giving it to her personally, but that wouldn't work now. It would be added to the jumble, the same as all the other presents she had been given.

She probably wouldn't even notice.

Súndavar groped for his dagger. He wanted release. Wanted to forget, to lose himself and his problems and his conscious thought.

If wasn't in its usual place, under his pillow.

Instead, he laid down on his bed.

Sleep would not come.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Slate felt like his head was being run through with thousands of swords, still red hot from the forge. He let out a bellow of pain and rage.

There was a comforting hand on his snout.

_Slate, I'm here._

He couldn't tell who it was. Not Súndavar.

_It hurts_, he complained to the unknown person.

_I know. I wish there was something I could do. But there isn't._

The hands massaged his snout gently. Beside him, he felt Saphira shift position. Her pain sparked in his head, adding to his own. He tried to block her out, but it was beyond him in his current state.

_It'll get better,_ said the voice.

Slate recognized it now. Rune. _Head hurts, _he protested again.

_Shhhh, now. It's going to be okay._

_What happened to my head? Did I die?_

_No. You just drank too much, that's all. You passed out._

_What about Saphira?_

_Same thing,_ Rune responded softly. She rubbed his forehead, between his eyes. _Hush, now. It'll be okay. Elves are fetching you water. It will help. _

Slate began to purr, giving Rune a lick. Her surprise tingled in his head, but she didn't stop rubbing. _What are you,_ she teased, _a cat or a dragon?_

He didn't respond, continuing his purring.

He lapped at the water that was brought to him, and almost immediately his headache quelled. He sighed in relief. _What of Shadow?_

_I haven't seen him. He talked to Oromis earlier._ From Rune's tone, Slate could tell that nothing Oromis had said was good.

_He is in his room, then,_ Slate said sadly. _And we both know that could only mean one thing._

_Not this time,_ Rune answered. _I took his dagger._

_All the same. Will you check on him? My head is fine._

_He'll only hit me,_ Rune carped.

_He has hit you?_

_Yes._

_I shall have to talk to him._

_No, it's fine. He apologized. I shouldn't have even brought it up. I'll go talk to him._

She hurried away towards Súndavar's tree, but not before grabbing a tray of food. He hadn't come to supper.

The boy was laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes. He didn't look up when she came in.

"Go away."

"Súndavar, I heard what Oromis told you. It isn't true."

"Might as well be. You reject me over and over."

Rune sat down next to him. "I reject your advances to become my lover. I want you as a friend."

"I want more."

"I know. But can't you be happy without it?"

He didn't answer.

"Súndavar, I miss you. Why won't you come back?"

"Just leave, okay?"

"I brought you food."

"I don't want it. I'm not hungry."

Rune touched his scar. "When I first met you, I remember feeling like I had known you before," she said. "I didn't give it much credit then. But now I know."

"Know what?"

"The man? The one your father went to see? That was Galbatorix. Your father was Ieran, wasn't he?"

"No. He was my sire. Not my father."

"Very well. Ieran the Shade. I remember him. He worked for my father. He and Durza never got along. Durza scorned him because he had you."

"If you're trying to make me feel better, you aren't doing a very good job."

Rune paused. "I was the girl, Súndavar. The one who held your hand. My father hit me that day. Because of you."

"You're telling me this why?"

"Because I'm sick of taking the blows for you. I'm sick of picking up your slack. I can't solve your problems, Súndavar. That's your job."

"What if I don't want them solved?"

"Then you're more troubled than I thought."

He turned over. "I'm sick of it too, Rune. You keep sending me mixed messages. One moment you're kissing me, the next—"

"That isn't fair. I was drunk."

"Just make up your mind. Either you love me or you hate me."

"Life isn't like that. Can't there be a middle ground?"

"No."

There were tears in her eyes. "Then…I…"

Súndavar knew what she was going to say. He didn't want her to say it. "Just get out, okay?" he screamed. "I don't want you here! You're just another stupid girl, and I hate you!"

She took a step backwards, away from him. He followed. "I hate you, Rune! You're just a good-for-nothing bitch! I don't need you, or anybody."

The tears streaked down her cheeks now. She stepped away, through the door. She peeked around it. "I took your dagger," she whispered, before shutting it.

Súndavar let out another shriek of fury. He grabbed the mirror off his desk and threw it against the wall. It shattered into a thousand sharp pieces.

Just like his life.

It was Rune's fault. She shouldn't have stuck up for him that day, at the slave market in Melian. She should have just continued on her way like a good little princess, ignoring him entirely. Everything was her fault.

And now he was without a dagger. He couldn't lose himself.

His eyes fell on the shattered mirror.

_Then again…_

Relief came quickly.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune sat in the tree, rocking herself forlornly. She hummed that lullaby to herself, the age old dragonsong that flitted in her heart, but could find no comfort in it. It seemed hollow, empty.

The sun was beginning to set. She had stayed up here since her fight with Súndavar, last night. She had cried at first, but after a few hours her tears had stopped, leaving only sorrow.

He didn't understand. She had tried her best, but she wasn't a hero. She was a half-blooded girl who had her own feelings to deal with, on top of his. She couldn't do everything.

She had been so close to saying it. So close to giving in, to letting him have everything he wanted. All it would have taken was a few simple words. _I love you_.

But she didn't. If she had said that, she knew what would have happened. She would lose her soul, her virtue, her respect for herself. Súndavar would be happy, but she would not.

That was too much to give. He was her friend. She loved Eragon.

Or…did she?

By now, Rune wasn't sure. The two men were so drastically different, like night and day. There was no comparison between them, not even in her feelings. She felt lost, drowned, smothered.

Rune let her thoughts fade, trying to find comfort in the emptiness. Her essence expanded, so she was no longer Rune. She became a part of everything around, a part of the trees and the ground and the sky.

She felt them there. Two forms, familiar and yet strange and new.

Rune opened her eyes, drawing back into herself. She couldn't see them. She knew what they were…but she couldn't put a finger on it.

Then she saw them on the horizon.

They were flying low over the trees. Powerful wings beating. Scales glimmering in the sun's final light. One the color of night, the other of blood.

She stood stark still as they came closer, then scurried down the tree.

They landed a few feet away. How they had known she was there, she knew not.

A smile showed in Shruikan's eyes.

_Hello, little devil. We meet again._


	30. Darkbane

Thorn snapped up the food in front of him. The elves gathered eyed him warily. Shruikan was clicking his claws on the ground, digging little ruts in the dirt with each movement.

"I wish I could say I welcome your visit, dragons," Islanzadí said, her voice cold. "But I cannot."

_We do not expect you to,_ Shruikan dismissed.

Rune glanced nervously from the elf queen to the dragons. Thorn still hadn't looked up from his meal.

Saphira and Slate sat far apart from them, as if worried they would be classified with the other dragons. Glaedr watched from even farther back, disgust clear on his face. According to the old dragon, Shruikan's bond to Galbatorix was perverted, filthy.

_We are on the same side of this battle,_ Shruikan told them all. _Our mission is different, the end is the same._

"And what might that end be?"

_Galbatorix's dethronement and the return of the Riders,_ Shruikan responded in the Ancient Language without a moment of hesitation.

"You say your mission is different. In what way?"

_We are here to prevent a certain order of the king from being fulfilled. Galbatorix has bound to him a young woman by the name of Lily. She—_

Shay stiffened. "Lily? You have news of Lily?"

Shruikan fixed his eyes on her. Recognition flickered in them. _Yes._

"She's not dead?"

_Last I saw her, she was very much alive._

Joy swelled in Shay's heart. Lily! Alive! For the first time in two years, Shay felt pure, utter, untainted happiness again. It was as if half of her soul had suddenly been returned. Half of her being restored, half of her very essence, her life, became one with her again.

She bounced up and down in childish joy. She knew all the elves were looking at her, but it didn't matter. _Lily was alive!_

"She's alive!" the young woman crowed.

She was so happy she turned to Vanir and kissed him full on the lips.

The elf turned pink, and Shay realized what she had done. She went rigid, blushing like mad. Turning back to the table, she folded her hands daintily, biting her lip.

"This is good news," she muttered, not looking at Vanir, or the dragon. Instead, she looked at the table, her face still a shade of rose.

Shruikan let out a laugh. _Perhaps._

Rune saw the discomfort her friend was in. "Shruikan, where is this _Lily?"_

_She is heading here, to Ellesméra, to fulfill her orders._

"Lily's coming here?" Shay asked excitedly.

Shruikan nodded. _Yes. Although her arrival is hardly to be celebrated._

"Why? What's she supposed to do?"

Shruikan hesitated. _I do not know_, he admitted in the Ancient Language.

"How is it that you are here, Darkbane?" Vanir asked.

Shruikan laughed. _Darkbane? An interesting title, little elf._

Vanir frowned at being called 'little'.

_Nonetheless, I accept it. Shruikan Darkbane…_ The dragon mused. _Dignified, for sure. _He stretched his wings. _As for your previous question…_

"How is it that you are here? Surely Galbatorix bound you to Uru'baen."

_Galbatorix has grown careless. He gave me permission to leave with Thorn, so as to train him._

"But wouldn't that restrict your actions to actually teaching him?"

Shruikan smiled like a cat would at a helpless mouse. _I was put in charge of his education. I choose what to teach him. Who's to say he's not learning as we speak?_

Thorn snorted, sending vegetable pie flying. Rune, Arya, Shay, and Islanzadi ducked under the table. The others were splattered with food.

_Sorry,_ the red dragon muttered sheepishly.

Slate stepped forward, sniffing Thorn. Thorn hissed at him.

_Where's your Rider, dragon?_ Slate demanded.

_I could ask you the same question._

Slate backed off. Rune watched him with sorrowful sage eyes. He couldn't say where Súndavar was, and they both knew it.

Rune felt Shay's hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into the captain, feeling like she was about to cry again.

"Where _is_ that Rider?" Islanzadí asked. "He should be here." she turned to Rune. "Rune, daughter, will you go and fetch him?"

Rune turned white. Shay squeezed her shoulder.

"No, your majesty. I'll get him," she said, standing up.

Rune's eyes were full of thanks.

_Don't worry,_ Shay mouthed to her.

She hurried off to Súndavar's tree.

Shay pounded on the door. "Súndavar?"

"Go away." His reply was tight.

"It's Shay. I'm coming in."

"No!"

Shay opened the door anyways. Súndavar was sitting on his bed, the shard of glass covered in blood. Shay batted it away from him, and it clattered to the floor.

"Heal your wound," she demanded.

Súndavar stared at her defiantly.

"Heal it," Shay repeated. "Rune may be hesitant to do anything about your pathetic self-pity, but I'm not. Heal it _now._"

"Waise heill," Súndavar spit at her. The blood stopped.

Shay smiled cruelly. "Good. Now get up."

Súndavar didn't obey.

"Get up!"

Still, the Rider remained sitting. "I don't take orders from you, Shay."

"Get your pathetic self off the bed, Súndavar Eddyrheart!"

Súndavar moved to slap her, but Shay caught his hand. "You're pitiful!" she hissed. "Súndavar, you need to get a grip. A life would be nice too. There are people in this world who are depending on you, and with every cut you doom not only yourself, but them!"

"I don't care about them!"

"You're a Rider! It's your job to care!"

"But I don't!"

"What about Rune? She misses you, Súndavar. You hurt her. Doesn't that matter?"

"No."

"That's not true, and we both know it. Now get up and come downstairs."

Súndavar pulled his hand from her grasp. "Leave me alone! Don't you get it? I don't want to be a Rider! I don't want to be a hero! And I don't need Rune! Or Slate or anybody. And I certainly don't need you."

Shay looked at him. "If you don't need anybody, then end it. You're not happy, then just give up and die." She picked up the piece of glass. "Go ahead. I won't stop you."

Súndavar looked at it. _What?_ Shay wasn't making sense…

Could he do it? Give up everything?

Yes…

No.

Súndavar threw the piece of glass against the wall.

"See? You don't want to die, Súndavar. You don't want to hurt yourself. All you want is to feel better."

"I do feel better. When I feel the dagger part my skin, that's when I feel better."

"There are a thousand other ways," she told him.

"But I like this one." By now, Súndavar sounded whiny. His world seemed to be collapsing. The delicate balance the cuts had given him was shattering. He could see through this pathetic excuse for relief.

What did he really want?

Rune?

No. He loved her, but he wanted her to be happy. If he couldn't give her that happiness, then he could live without her love. She herself was more important than his longing for her.

Power?

No. Not that either.

He wanted joy. He wanted to feel _real_, alive. Feel like he could make a difference, like he mattered.

"Súndavar, come on," Shay said softly.

He followed without a word.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Rune ignored Súndavar entirely, not even glancing his way.

When dinner was finished, he pulled her aside.

"Rune, I'm sorry."

She refused to meet his eyes. "You always say that, Súndavar. But you don't mean it."

"I do this time."

"Prove it."

"I won't cut myself anymore. _Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal."_

Rune pursed her lips. "And you won't try to force me into anything?"

"No. I want you to be happy."

She smiled gently. "Súndavar, I am happy. I'm happy with you as my friend."

"I'm sorry I screamed at you. I don't hate you."

"I know."

"Then…we're friends again?"

"I suppose. If you want to be." She smiled coyly, batting her eyelashes. He laughed and kissed her forehead.

Thorn nudged them apart with his snout. _Come, Dove. I've been instructed not to let you out of my sight._

"Instructed? By whom?"

_Murtagh._

Rune bounced up and down, hugging Thorn's nose. "Murtagh? You mean he's alright? How is he?"

_He is well. But he misses you._

"I miss him too. I think…" she paused, then frowned. "Murtagh is the one with the scar on his back, right?"

Thorn nodded, looking at her questioningly.

"It's a long story," Súndavar explained.

_I'm sure. Now, come._

Rune went to sleep snuggled underneath Thorn's wing, his dragonfire against her heartbeat.

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Lily placed her hand against the great tree, her heart aching.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

In a louder voice she called a single word. It echoed over the forest, sending birds from their roosts, and animals from their dens.

"_Brisingr!"_


	31. Blazing Inferno

Rune felt the warmth around her. Soft, wonderful. A comforting warmth, like the dragonfire hidden in Thorn's chest. She could just curl up beside it…

But no.

The warmth grew. It was uncomfortable now, making beads of sweat form on Rune's brow. She twisted, trying to find a better position, away from the heat.

It danced, intensified, It was a burning, a scalding. Rune tossed and turned. She had to get away from the burning. It licked over her skin, make her throat ache and hiss.

Rune could feel a scream rising in her throat. But nothing came.

Everything was red, angry. The flames danced around her, biting her skin, making ever breath sting in her lungs.

She tried to scream again, tried to run, get up and flee from the hating heat, but she could do nothing. The pain and heat was all she knew.

Then nothing.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Rune, wake up!_ Thorn nudged her with his snout. _Rune!_

She didn't move.

Thorn pushed her out of the way as a branch fell from a tree above. The flames licked at his flank, but he ignored them. Snatching her carefully in his mouth, like a mother cat, the red dragon darted away.

Elves darted back and forth. Water flew through the air, and calls of "Blöthr du brisingr!" and "Adurna!" echoed. They were drowned by the crackling of the fire.

Shruikan had teamed with Slate and Saphira, who were beating back the fire with powerful wings.

_Thorn!_ Saphira cried. _Help us!_

Shruikan shook his head. _It is too far gone,_ he said. _Come. Let us fly._

_We are **not** abandoning everyone!_ Slate yelled, beating at the flames with a renewed intensity.

Clasped in Thorn's jaws, Rune stirred, moaning. Thorn set her on the ground.

"Where is Eragon?" she asked.

The Rider materialized from the flames. He saw Rune and helped her up. The fire reflected in his eyes, and his head was wild.

Rune felt the heat around her, trying to choke her. Eragon held her close as she cried.

"Come, Rune," he said over the roar. "We don't have time!"

She wiped away her tears. "Where's Súndavar?"

"I don't know! Head to the lake! Islanzadí and Arya are there."

She shook her head. "Not without you!"

"I'm trying to find anyone who was left behind."

"Where's Shay? Vanir?"

"I haven't seen either. Rune, please. Saphira will take you to the lake."

Rune shook her head. "No!"

"I don't have time to argue with you," Eragon snapped. He darted into the fire again, quenching those in his path.

"I'm going to find Shay and Súndavar," Rune told the dragons. She stumbled off in the direction of Súndavar's tree.

The Shade boy was running down the stairs. He hugged her tightly. "What happened?"

"I don't know. Eragon told me to head to the lake. I'm going to find Shay."

There was fear in her voice, but determination too.

"Shay can take care of herself. Eragon is right."

"Then you go."

Súndavar shook his head. "I'm going with you. Someone has to keep you from hurting yourself."

The two ran off. Rune tried to ignore the smothering heat, but it was everywhere.

Shruikan was waiting for them. _Go to the lake. Your friends are fine._

Súndavar mounted Slate. "Come on!"

Shruikan stretched out his neck. _Let us fly._

Rune clambered awkwardly onto his back. The two dragons took to the sky.

A scream echoed from below them. A scream of terror and pain.

"Land!" Rune demanded. Shruikan kept flying.

"Land or I'll jump!"

_Go,_ Shruikan bid the other dragon and his Rider. _We shall catch up._

Shruikan spiraled out of the sky, in the direction of the scream.

The house it came from was aflame. Rune jumped off Shruikan and ran towards it.

"Hello?"

Another scream.

Rune kicked the door. It crumpled. She ran in, trying to keep low.

Two children huddled in the room, pinned to the wall by flames. One was a girl, only about ten, the other a small boy who couldn't have been older than five or six. Hope glittered in their eyes when they saw Rune.

"Stay there!" Rune cried to them. Taking a deep breath, she passed through the fire.

It scorched her legs, burnt her hair and her face. She ignored the pain, resisting the urge to scream in agony.

The girl was crying.

"Hush, we'll be okay" Rune bid, helping her to her feet and grabbing the little boy. She propped him against her hip. "On the count of three, okay?"

The girl nodded.

"One…two…three!"

Rune pulled her through the inferno, out the open doorway, and into the clearing. Shruikan came forward. The girl trembled, but put on a brave face.

Rune looked around wildly. Something didn't seem right…other than the fact that the forest was burning around her. There!

Beneath the Menoa Tree. A small form laid sprawled on the ground. Rune couldn't make out who it was through the dancing flame.

She lifted the boy onto Shruikan's neck, then boosted the girl up.

"What's your name?"

"A-a-Alanna," the elf child bleated fearfully.

"Alright Alanna. I want you to hold on as _tight_ as you can," Rune instructed. "Don't let go, no matter what happens."

Alanna nodded bravely.

_Go, Shruikan,_ Rune demanded. _I'll be fine._

The dragon snorted, but didn't protest. Alanna, the little boy, and Shruikan vanished into the night sky.

Rune darted to the figure beneath the Menoa Tree. She was shocked at what she found.

"Shay?"

The girl at her feet didn't stir. Her hair was hidden with a hood. Rune shook her, and the hood fell free. Blonde hair streamed onto the ground.

The young woman rolled over, before coughing. Rune helped her to her feet.

"Who are you?" Rune asked, disturbed and confused.

"Lily," she gasped. "I'm Lily." She staggered against Rune. Rune tried to support her, but stumbled back, against the Menoa Tree.

In a rush, she heard—no, _felt_—a thousand screams. The forest was screaming. Pain. White pain, red pain, black pain. She was burning, being consumed by it. It was everywhere, everything.

"It is dieing," she cried. "It's dieing!"

Lily pulled her away from the tree.

"I don't know who you are," she said, "But let's go!"

Rune still heard the forest's screams in her mind and heart.

_Run, daughter._

Lycona.

Rune took her advice. She squeezed Lily's forearm, and the two ran in the direction of the lake.

Around them, Ellesméra burned.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooo

**The story finishes in:**

**Child of Hope and Betrayal**


End file.
